Harry Potter and the Chosen of Hogwarts
by Unwritten.25
Summary: Books rewrite. Future SSHP. Harry may not have defeated Voldemort, but that doesn't mean that his jump into the Wizarding world is going to be any less interesting - or dangerous.
1. Harry James Potter

**Summary:** (Books re-write) In a world where Voldemort disappeared mysteriously after 1981, Harry Potter lives with his guardians, the Dursley's, after the death of his parent's. When he discovers he's a wizard, he gets swept into a world that is both beautiful and terrible that will change the way he sees the world forever.

**Pairings:** Harry/Severus (main, eventual), Harry/Cedric (small), Harry/others (small), Draco/Blaise (side, eventual), Draco/Hermione (small), Neville/Luna (side, eventual), Ginny/Hermione (side, eventual), Remus/Sirius (side, eventual), mentions Lucius/Narcissa (present). (Note: Most of these pairings won't happen for quite some time; I'm not a pedophile, and the main characters are only 11.)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of this story but the plot. The characters themselves (except for possible OC's I may create) belong to J.K. Rowling. I just like to play with them. Rest assured she'll get them back safe and sound. All quotes, lyrics, and music belong to their original authors; I just borrow their words from time to time for my own purposes. I claim nothing, and thus you don't have the rights to sue me, so there XP.

**Warnings:** This story will contain **SLASH** pairings, which means **guys on guys** and **girls on girls**. Just to be fair……This story will contain **HET** pairings, which means a **guy on a girl**. There will be mentions of **child abuse**, and **manipulation**. There will some of **violence**, **swearing**, and **mature content** (because Potions Masters are closet perverts) later in the story (when Harry is older, 'cause Unwritten isn't into pedophilia). There will be some **Dumbledore bashing**, but nothing too drastic. Unwritten will be re-writing canon events to suit her whims, making this story blatantly **AU**. If anything of the above irritates/disgust you, then leave.

**Author's Notes:** This will be a series that goes through the entire seven books if I can make it that far (lord help my laziness) and the events of canon will be followed _extremely_ loosely; as in so loosely that they might not even seem like canon events anymore. I changed a lot of the history, added a lot of my own traditions as well as a lot more and I'm happy with how it's turning out so far. Some of this chapter was taken directly out of the book (see bottom). Please enjoy and leave a review!

"Talking" / _'Thoughts'_ / **"Spells"** / _Letters_ / (Beastspeech)

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Chosen of Hogwarts  
****Chapter One: Harry James Potter**

A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step. (Lao Tzu)

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." (Bilbo Baggins to Frodo Baggins)

* * *

**July 23rd, 1991, 6:30 AM  
****Privet Drive, Surrey, England**

Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey was a place of poise. People who lived there were well off, respectable, married couples that drove minivans. There weren't any people who had been married in Vegas, or had went to jail, or had even gotten a speeding ticket. The men all had high paying jobs and the women stayed home to take care of the children of the house, who were all well-behaved little snots.

The families of Privet Drive prided themselves on being normal. However very few people were aware of the very abnormal person living in the cupboard of Number 4 Privet Drive. The neighbors did, of course, know that there was a boy called Harry Potter living with the respectable Dursley family. However nobody had spoken to the boy besides Miss Figg, the crazy cat lady who lived at the end of the road, and even that only happened rarely.

Currently Harry Potter was in his cupboard underneath the stairs, legs pulled into his chest, chin on his knees, watching the spiders crawl over his walls. He would've liked to read, but he had just finished his last book an hour ago, and he had to wait for Aunt Petunia to let him go to the Library that afternoon until he could get anything new.

If anyone had asked Harry who his favorite person in the Dursley household was he would have answered wholeheartedly and without hesitation; his Aunt Petunia. While the tall, horse-like woman wasn't always the nicest to him, she respected his love of reading enough to allow him to go the library for new books when his Uncle Vernon and Cousin Dudley were out. Harry had tried to thank her, a long time ago, but she had waved it off saying that her sister would have wanted her only child to be literate. Harry had gotten the feeling that his Aunt didn't hate his mother as much as she said she did.

Uncle Vernon, on the other hand was someone Harry tried to avoid. The man usually liked to hit Harry when he was in a bad mood – something that happened at least three times a week, if not more. Thankfully Dudley wasn't as bad his father, though he was a bully to both Harry and the rest of the kids in the neighborhood.

Harry was drawn from his study of the spiders on the wall when a yell of, "BOY! MAIL!" came from the hallway as Uncle Vernon pounded through it. The large man only stopped long enough to unlock Harry's cupboard before rushing in to get his breakfast. Harry quietly got out, heading for the front door.

He picked up the small bundle by the door and quickly shuffled through it, prepared to throw out any junk mail so Uncle Vernon wouldn't have to. He passed through a couple of bills, a postcard from his 'Aunt' Marge, and a letter from Dudley's school. Harry stopped at the last letter and was about to enter the kitchen to give the bundle to Vernon when the address caught his eye and he gasped. For there, clearly printed in green ink was:

_Mr. H. Potter  
__Cupboard under the Stairs  
__4 Privet Drive  
__Little Whinging  
__Surrey (1)_

He continued staring until another yell of, "BOY!" echoed through the hall. Blinking out of his amazed stupor, Harry quickly tucked the envelope into an oversized pocket and hurried into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was sitting at the table, eating eggs, while Aunt Petunia shuffled around the kitchen counter. Harry quietly handed the bundle to Uncle Vernon, who shuffled through them and set them down on the table. He motioned for Harry to return to his cupboard until Aunt Petunia had need for him. Harry slipped out of the kitchen quietly, leaving Uncle Vernon to talk about Marge's postcard.

Back in the safety of his cupboard, Harry waited for the slam of the front door that signaled Uncle Vernon's leave before he even dared to try to take out the letter. His Aunt Petunia would clean the table before fetching him to do his chores, so he had some time to take a look at the mysterious post.

Harry pulled out the letter from his pocket, staring at it for a minute or two. The envelope was made from a heavy, creamy paper, and the deep green ink stood out vividly even in the dim light of the cupboard. Harry turned the envelope over and raised an eyebrow; there was seal on the back, pressed in red wax, of a lion, a badger, a snake, and a raven surrounding a large H. He had heard of such seals being used in the medieval days, but he wasn't aware that people even still used them anymore besides, perhaps, the queen.

Harry carefully broke the seal, and pulled out the first letter, which was made from the same thick and creamy paper as the envelope. When he unfolded it, vivid green ink once again shone up at him.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
__of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
__Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
__(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st._

_Yours sincerely,  
__Minerva McGonagall  
__Deputy Headmistress (2)_

_Postscript: Mr. Potter, due to your unique circumstances, one of the Hogwarts Professors will be arriving at your home on July 31st. Therefore there is no need to send an owl, as you can tell the Professor if you wish to attend Hogwarts or not. Please inform your guardians and expect them at 11:50 AM. We look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts._

Harry stared at the letter, unable to believe that he was holding an acceptance letter to a _magic_ school. It had to be a trick, something Dudley had thought up. But a part of him pointed out that Dudley wasn't smart enough to use old fashioned paper and a seal to make it look authentic. Harry carefully placed the letter in a secret niche he had made when he was 7 and lay down on his bed, his arms tucked beneath his head. He didn't really believe that there was such thing as magic, but he would wait until the specified date to see the 'Professor' from this Hogwarts place before deciding if it was real or not. He refused to acknowledge the bubble of hope that has risen up in his chest that he may be getting away from the Dursley's; hope was such a dangerous emotion.

Harry sighed as Aunt Petunia called for him to start his chores and got out of his cupboard, his mind still on the mysterious letter.

* * *

**July 31****st****, 1991; 11:55 AM  
****Privet Drive, Surrey, England**

Severus Snape stared at the perfect looking houses of Privet Drive and snorted in disgust. The lawns were picture-perfect with thick green grass. All the houses looked alike; square, modern, and painted in dull colors. There were children playing happily in their gardens while mothers chattered at each other from the windows. It was the perfect suburban town and Severus hated it.

He could almost pity Potter for having to live somewhere like _this_ all his life. This was a place with white picket fences, family game nights, and people who knew everything about you because they were snooping from their windows. Severus shuddered lightly as he walked up the steps of House Number 4 and rang the small white doorbell. He'd _hate_ to live someplace like this, where everyone was so……nosy. Even now there were women staring at him from behind their curtains, and children peeking at him from the gardens.

The door opened and Severus stared at the child that had opened the door. The child (he couldn't tell if it was a girl or a boy) had roughly waist length raven black hair that had deep red highlights streaked through it. Most of it was tied back by a cord, but a stubborn piece of bang hung over the child's left eye **(1)**. The child had an oval-shaped face with pale skin, high cheekbones, and full coral red lips. The child's eyes were its best feature however; they were almond shaped and slanted like a cat's, the iris colored a deep, rich green.

Severus ran an eye down the child's body and frowned. It was short, petite, and extremely slender. Its dark gray pants hung in folds around its waist and the shirt came down to its knees, the sleeves needing to be rolled up several times to reveal a slim hand. Nothing revealed what gender the child was; it was pretty enough to be a girl, yet its looks had a masculine feel to them as well.

"I'm here to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley about a Mr. Harry Potter," Severus said stiffly, hoping his observations of the child had gone unnoticed. The child raised a slim dark eyebrow and raised its chin, and suddenly Severus could see Lily Evans written all over it.

"You can speak to Mr. Potter about Mr. Potter sir," the child said clearly and Severus nearly gaped.

This small person was Harry Potter, the son of his worst enemy? Of course now that he knew this was Potter junior, he could see hints of James Potter on his face - in the smoothly arched eyebrows, the messy jet black bangs, as well as the sharp, stubborn jaw. But everything else looked so much like Lily it was a wonder he hadn't spotted it beforehand.

Severus recovered from his shock and nodded to the boy slightly, and was surprised to get a nod in return. He said, "Mr. Potter, I am Professor Severus Snape. I wish to talk to either Mr. or Mrs. Dursley before we leave to get your school supplies. May I come in, or shall we conduct this conversation on your doorstep?"

The boy gave a faint smile (one that reminded him too much of Albus' 'I-know-something-you-don't-nyah-nyah' smiles) and stepped aside to Severus could sweep into the hallway. He snorted in disgust at the long line of pictures of a fat blonde boy (Merlin did _that_ child remind him of a pig). Sometimes he despised parents and their illogical love for their children.

Potter neatly closed the door behind him and led Severus into the kitchen where a thin blonde woman was standing at the stove. She turned when she heard them enter and her jaw dropped when she stopped Severus.

"Harry," she said carefully to the little boy, never taking her eyes of Severus. He inwardly rolled his eyes when he saw her hand inching towards the nearby frying pan. "Who is this?"

Potter gave her the same faint smile Severus has seen at the doorway and said, "This is Professor Severus Snape from a place called Hogwarts Aunt Petunia. He's come to take me to get my things for school."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't realized that _this_ was Lily's sister. She had looked different when he had last seen her (which, admittedly, had been 15 years ago). Her hair had been a dark blonde bordering on auburn, and her face had been kind and thoughtful. Now she had pale blonde hair and a sharp, almost unforgiving face.

"I suppose you'll be going to that fool school of your mother's than?" Petunia asked, her lips narrowing.

Potter's eyes narrowed as he nodded, his small chin lifting in defiance yet again. Petunia eyed him for a minute and then sighed, dropping into one of the chairs at the nearby kitchen table as if it was all too much to stand up. She said, "Vernon won't be happy, but I suppose this is for the best. Lily would have wanted you to have _their_ kind of education."

Severus watched as nephew and aunt conversed, figuring out what to do for the holidays and then raised his eyes to the small clock by the stove. He stiffened when it read 11:59; he didn't have enough time to warn Potter about what would be coming. In probably seconds the Transition would begin. Severus mentally cursed; he knew that he shouldn't have started that experiment so close to when he had to leave……If he had gotten to the Dursley home earlier he would have had the time to warn the boy about what was going to happen. Annoyed at himself, he moved closer to Potter's chair, eyes on the slim red second counter as it whirled around the kitchen clock. He held his breath as the clock stopped at 12:00.

Then the screaming began.

Potter was convulsing in his chair, a high pitched wail tearing out of his throat. Severus hastily threw up a silencing charm and stayed where he was, keeping a hand on the back of the boy's chair to keep it from tipping it over.

He stopped Petunia from rushing to the child's side by saying, "This is _normal_ foolish woman. Mr. Potter will be fine soon. Your sister went through the _Rite of Transition_ too did she not?"

Petunia nodded hesitantly, her pale blue eyes locked onto her nephew's pained face, "I remember that. The Professor that was there at the time said that it was natural, but I was too young to understand. How long will he be going through this? And what is happening to him? Can I hold him down?"

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, wondering why Albus had chosen him to be the one to come to Potter's home. He hated explaining anything magical to Muggles.

"Potter is going through the _Rite of Transition_, which happens at Noon on a Wizard's 11th birthday. In plain terms the child is getting his magical and creature inheritances from his parents. The pain of the process is because the magic is re-shaping Potter's body and personal magic to make way for his new gifts. Most children only have a half-hour long rite, but if he has more magical gifts it could take hours. Touching is forbidden during the Transition; it could disrupt a child's magic and send them into a coma," he lectured sternly, in his best 'Potions Professor' voice.

By the end of his speech Petunia had sunk back into her chair, eyes still on her nephew whose screams had become partially silent. The boy had fallen out of his chair during Severus' lecture and was now convulsing on the floor, fingernails swiping at his skin and leaving bloody red crescents behind. Severus could feel the magic swirling around the brat and settled down into the abandoned chair to wait and monitor.

Three hours and twenty minutes later and Potter was still convulsing on the floor. His screams had become completely silent an hour ago, but his mouth still opened as he screamed, giving his face an disturbing appearance. Severus was at wit's end - rarely did a child's Transition last outside an hour, or even two. The last case of a three hour or more Transition had been Tom Riddle, whose Transition had lasted three hours and fifteen minutes. Even Dumbledore's had only been an hour and a half.

Severus sighed in relief as the brat finally stopped shuddering and lay still on the floor, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Severus looked him over for the tattoos that marked his gifts – all wizarding children got them after their Transition to mark the Earthly gifts that they had inherited. However things such as Aura sight, wandless magic, and Animagus potential wouldn't show up on the boy's skin as they dealt directly with magic itself.

Potter had a medium sized eye drawn in deep red and gold inks on his right cheek - a phoenix eye if Severus was not mistaken. A small Egyptian Ankh was painted on his forehead in a dark crimson red and Severus raised an eyebrow in recognition. Severus tipped the boy's head to the side and the eyebrow rose further up when he saw the sign of Chaos painted in a pale, pearly gray.

Severus sighed and carefully extracted Potter from his overgrown shirt. He frowned slightly as he noticed the pronounced ribcage and backbone but then his attention was drawn to the symbols painted on Potter's chest and back.

A rich purple Ouroboros curled around the boy's neck, and on his left shoulder there was the Japanese Kanji character that Severus couldn't translate. His hands had a tribal looking light green spiral painted on the back of them that curved from his wrist to the tips of his fingers. On Potter's left hip there was a small moon shaded in dark greens and browns. Severus turned the boy over and noted the inky black cross on the boy's left shoulder blade as well as the set of stylized Arabic letters running across the base of his neck. And finally there was a medium sized Scythe drawn in black and gray inks on the lower left part of his back. **(2)**

Severus eyed the boy's body, turning him this way and that, and determined that there weren't any physical changes that he could see beyond the tattoos. He carefully re-attached the shirt to the brat, memorizing the symbols so he could look up the gifts they represented later on. He had never bothered to learn different gift symbols, but now he was interested to see what such a long Transition had produced.

"Where is Potter's room? He'll need to sleep for the rest of the day until his body gets used to the changes."

Petunia hesitated and Severus narrowed his eyes at her. She sighed and led him back into the narrow hallway before stopping at a cupboard halfway between the kitchen and the door. She opened it and Severus was shocked to see a small bed on the dusty floor with a thin blanket and a pathetic looking pillow. There were books scattered over the tiny room, with more piled in a tall hole made in the right side, making the entire picture look even more depressing than it already was.

Severus had already turned a dangerous look at Petunia whose head was lowered. She sighed as she felt his glare and said quietly, "When Harry first arrived I hated him because he was the son of the preferred sister. Vernon hated him because he was the son of the people he considered freaky. I learned to be kind to Harry but Vernon has always been cruel to the child. I live in this house only because of my husband Professor Snape, and I cannot say a word against him for fear of getting thrown out on the streets. I have no family and no friends to go to and if I left Harry would still be here suffering from abuse. What would you have me do?" Her eyes were distant, but her voice was strong and steady.

Severus sneered at the woman but said nothing. Carefully he placed the boy on the thin bed made of blankets and covered him up, backing out of the dusty cupboard immediately. He spared another glare for Petunia and then said curtly, "I will return tomorrow to bring him to get his school things. If you do not want your husband to learn of it, I suggest you make sure he is out of the house. Good Day Mrs. Dursley," and then proceeded to swirl around and stalk towards the door in his usual dramatic fashion.

"Thank you coming Professor Snape," Petunia called at the man's back. She sighed again and stared at the small figure on her bed. She didn't love this child like she did Dudley, but she felt responsibility for him. Lily had been her sister, no matter how much Petunia disliked her, and she was responsible for the child's welfare now that she had died. Harry needed to go to Lily's school - it would be away from Vernon - and he would be among people who were like him.

Petunia Dursley vowed, as she closed the door to Harry's cupboard, to make sure that the boy got that chance.

* * *

When Harry woke, he felt like he'd been through hell and back.

Every bone in his body felt like it had been pulled too far. He imagined this is what it would be like after being on one of those rack things people used for torture in the Medieval era. Behind his eyes, he had a throbbing headache and moving even an inch made him wheeze and wince. He slowly opened his eyes, fighting back the urge to just drift back into unconsciousness. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to darkness of his cupboard, and then his mouth opened in a soundless gasp. All around him there were _colors_.

Bright bursts of golden and light blue colors swirled around him, mixing with red, purple, and light silver. They traveled in through the vents of his cupboard, and then moved out again, swirling around and around in an endless circle. It made Harry's head dizzy to even look at it. He carefully and slowly sat up, wincing as every inch he managed to make made his head throb even worse. Leaning heavily against the wall, he stared at the dim lights in his cupboard with wonderment.

The last thing he could remember was the _pain_ and screaming. He hadn't known how long it had went on, as he had lost all sense of time after the few agonizingly slow minutes of the _hurting_. He briefly remembered when it had stopped, but then he had been overcome with the darkness.

Harry slowly inched upwards until he was standing on his wobbly legs. He reached blindly in the dark for the cupboard handle, and pushed his door open, peering into the brightly lit hallway. He was surprised to see that the lights that had danced inside his small room were out here as well, though the colors had changed to a dirty brown and blood red. Harry stumbled into the kitchen and was relieved to find only Petunia inside, making something in the oven. As soon as she heard the door open she turned and gasped with surprise when she saw Harry standing there, looking ready to collapse at any moment.

"Harry!" she scolded, grabbing his arm and hoisting him into a seat. "What are you doing up already? You should still be in bed, recovering!"

Harry gave her an innocent look and Petunia sighed in exasperation. Her nephew would be a menace in that school of her sister's that was for sure. She had never seen a child so stubborn.

"What happened to me yesterday, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked quietly.

Petunia put a hand over her face and sighed again, "It's a tradition _your kind_ go through at noon on their 11th birthday, according to that Professor of yours. The gifts you get from your parent's heritage were manifesting. The Professor said it was so painful because _it_ was re-shaping your body to make room for the gifts you would be using."

_'Well'_ Harry thought weakly _'that explains why I can see colors now.'_ He was shocked; it was a large change to go from thinking that magic wasn't real to having a whole community of wizards, magical traditions, and gifts he'd inherited from his _parents_.

"Is Professor Snape coming back?" he asked, still quiet. Talking even this softly was giving him a headache.

"Yes," Petunia answered wearily. "He said he would come back to get your school supplies today. I suppose he didn't know that you would pass out, or he would have taken you yesterday."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, settling into a nearby chair so he could rub the migraine away from his temples. Petunia clicked her tongue smugly, making Harry shoot a glare at her through his bangs before resting his head against the cool, slick surface of the table. He sighed in happy relief as the headache began to fade.

Petunia smothered a smile as she watched her nephew doze on the table – he really had no idea how……cute he looked with his long hair draped over his neck and his nose scrunching every now and again in thought. He really was Lily's child – she had looked just as adorable as a child, which Petunia had taken good naturedly back then and despised as she had gotten older. Shoving such thoughts into the back of her mind, Petunia jumped when she heard the doorbell ring and hurried to see who it was.

Harry opened his eyes when he heard his Aunt leave and stared at the wall in front of him thoughtfully. He had felt _something_ when Petunia had been watching him – a sort of furry feeling, as if he was rubbing his hand against a teddy bear and the feeling of raindrops and cool autumn air against his skin. It had been very faint, and he wondered what had caused it, or what he had been feeling.

"Harry!" he heard his Aunt yell. "Professor Snape is here!"

Harry hurried into the living room, smiling lightly when he saw Professor Snape sitting uncomfortably on the couch. He understood the man's discomfort – the couch was stiff and straight-backed, meant more for tea parties than for guests to relax on. He watched, fascinated, as the colors he'd been seeing since he woke up swirled brightly around Snape, changing rapidly from dark blue to green to black and then blue again. However, they were very distracting……Harry sighed and squinted at the lights, hoping that if he concentrated on willing them away, he wouldn't see them anymore. Just when he was about to give up the colors faded from his sight and everything was normal again. Surprised but happy he returned his attention to Snape.

"Hello Professor," he said pleasantly, and was a little puzzled when Snape's black eyes narrowed at him.

"Mr. Potter," the man greeted his voice startling neutral. "Have you been feeling any effects from your Transition yesterday?"

Harry supposed he meant the painful process Petunia had explained to him and hesitated. He wasn't sure if he could trust this man, and he really didn't want to tell him about the colors and the strange feelings. He lied with a straight face, "No sir, none at all."

He thought he must have dreamt up the smirk Snape gave at his answer, for it was gone within seconds, and how would the Professor even know he was lying? Harry smoothed the suspicion in his mind, but didn't stifle it completely; he had no idea if wizard's could read mind's or detect lies, so it was entirely possible that Snape had known he had been fibbing.

"Come, Potter, I want to get back to Hogwarts before sunset," Snape said, holding out an arm. With some doubt about Snape's mental health, Harry took it and looked up at the much taller wizard.

"Hold on," Snape said and then all Harry could feel was the extremely unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a small tube at lightening fast speed. In seconds it was over, but even that short amount of time left Harry breathless and sick. He leaned heavily on Snape's arm, and breathed in deeply for a minute before looking up at his teacher.

"Sorry," he said quietly and Snape opened his mouth as if to make a caustic remark but paused when he saw Harry's sincerely apologetic face. Sighing he grabbed the boy's arm and turned the child to face him.

"Hold on a minute Potter – I want to cover your markings……" he muttered and Harry frowned, confused. He looked down at himself and was shocked to see that his hands were covered in a light green spiral. Blinking furiously he looked up at Snape.

"Do I have more?" he asked hesitantly. Snape just nodded and whirled his wand. Harry shivered when the feeling of something cool and slimy drifted over his face and hands. "What are they?"

"They are markings of your gifts, Mr. Potter and the result of your prolonged transition yesterday," Snape said curtly, dragging Harry behind him as they made their way into the Leaky Cauldron barroom.

Harry felt dizzy from the overwhelming wash of _feeling_ he was getting front the bar; he was able to make out the feeling of cool summer rains, the smell of a thunderstorm, and the feeling of dry desert heat before the ability was abruptly cut off. Harry sighed with relief; as interesting as this new……thing was, he'd started to get a headache from the overdose. He looked up and frowned in puzzlement when he saw that Snape was smirking down at him. _'What's he so happy about?'_ he thought, and he opened his mouth to say it aloud but Snape's attention was draw from him when the old man minding the bar called his name.

"As I live and breathe!" the old man said, smiling through a mouth of crooked teeth. "If it isn't Severus Snape! I haven't seen you in these parts for years, Professor."

Snape sneered again, but Harry noticed that this one was much colder and deeper than the ones he'd been shooting at him since they'd met.

"There wasn't much to come around for, Mr. Tom," he said, looking around disdainfully. The barman, now known as Tom, stiffened but didn't say anything. Instead he re-directed his attention the small boy by Snape's elbow.

"Ah, and who might this be?" he asked kindly, bad mood vanishing in the light of the big, childish green eyes staring up at him solemnly.

"Harry Potter," Snape bit out. "I'm taking him school shopping."

Tom eyed the boy for a minute longer and he breathed out, "He's James and Lily's, ain't he? Damnation, he looks just like Lily……Poor kid," he ruffled Harry's hair, making said kid glare up at him. With a chuckle Tom made his way back to the counter. "You know your way Professor!" he called out over his shoulder. "Diagon hasn't moved in the past 10 years!"

Snape muttered under his breath about cheeky barmen but instead of retaliating he made his way to the back of the dingy barroom and stopped in front of a brick wall and took out a long, slender stick of wood; Harry supposed that this must be his wand. Eagerly the boy watched as Snape tapped three bricks in a specific order with the tip of his wand.

Suddenly, the bricks started to move.

Harry watched with wide eyes as the bricks began to slide against each other until there was a doorway standing in front of the wizards instead of a wall. And beyond that doorway was the most chaotic, busy, messy, _wonderful_ place Harry had ever seen in his short 11 years.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Snape said next to him grumpily, spoiling Harry's good mood. However he just ignored the older wizard as he cautiously made his way through the doorway and into the interesting place he now knew to be called _Diagon Alley_. Snape harrumphed but followed close behind him.

"You have your school list, correct, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked soon after they had started walking down the streets of Diagon Alley. Harry nodded and pulled out the letter, which he had kept close to him ever since the day that it had arrived on the doorstep. Carefully he pulled out the original letter and then the second sheet of parchment, which he hadn't looked at yet, too busy with chores and reading.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
__of WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Uniform_

_First-year students will require:_

_1. Three sets of plain work robes  
__2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
__3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
__4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
__Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags (3)_

Harry's amazed eyes traveled down the rest of the list, which contained books he'd never heard of with the most unusual titles (_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore, _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_ by Newt Scamander, and so many more), strange equipment that he wasn't sure where to go to buy (1 wand? 1 cauldron?) and the permission to buy either a cat, toad, or owl. Harry felt dizzy.

"And……we can buy all of this in Diagon Alley?" he asked Snape quietly, his eyes still focused on the list of school supplies. Snape snorted impatiently.

"Of course, you fool! Diagon Alley is a _magical_ alley. It's here specifically for the purpose for Wizards to buy supplies without being noticed!" He looked down at Harry and sighed when he saw the awed face that clearly wasn't listening to a word he was saying. "Never mind Mr. Potter. Come, we need to go to Gringotts."

Harry followed Snape happily and asked, "What's Gringotts, sir?"

Snape sighed (Harry recognized the tone; it was the sigh Petunia gave whenever he was being particularly troublesome and she was asking God for guidance) and answered, "It is a Wizarding bank Mr. Potter; in fact it's _the_ Wizarding bank."

"But……" Harry started with a frown, "I don't have any money to get from a bank."

"Mr. Potter your parents, despite their many shortcomings, were not stupid enough to leave you without any money after they died," Snape said shortly. "Now _be silent_."

Harry smiled slightly but stayed quiet according to the Potions master's wishes. However he couldn't hold in the awed gasp at the sight of the huge, white bank glittering in the sunlight and surrounded by people. Snape smirked at his reaction, but said nothing about it, which Harry found strange. However his attention was distracted when they walked past a tiny creature dressed in rich red and gold clothes **(3)** standing next to the giant bronze doors. Snape, seeing his confusion, bent lower to speak softly in his ear.

"That is a Goblin, Mr. Potter; they are the bankers of Gringotts."

Harry nodded, but didn't take his eyes off of the creature. It had a clever, dark face, a pointed beard, and very long hands and fingers. It even bowed as Snape and Harry swept by it through the bronze doors. Harry was surprised when they reached another set of doors, this time made of silver. He blinked when he realized that there was writing engraved into the shining metal and squinted to make out the scripted words.

_Enter stranger, but take heed  
__Of what awaits the sin of greed  
__For those who take, but do not earn,  
__Must pay dearly in their turn  
__So if you seek beneath our floors  
__A treasure that was never yours  
T__hief, you have been warned, beware  
__Of finding more than treasure there (4)_

Harry blinked up at the letters, torn between fear and awe. However Snape just snorted at the silly words and said, "No one would try to rob Gringotts, even if they didn't have their silly little _ditty_," he sneered, sweeping through the doors, Harry following closely behind.

Harry felt dizzy from all the awe-inducing shocks he'd been getting lately and the giant marble room full of both goblins and stately looking wizards in proper robes didn't help matters very much. The hall was made of white-gold and the floor shone brightly enough to reflect Harry's face back up at him. The goblins were all dressed in very proper little suits, all in various shades of color, and they were all busy at work. Snape approached one of the only empty desks and leaned forward over it to talk to the stately looking goblin scribbling on parchment behind the shining oak surface.

"We're here to extract money for Mr. Potter," he said with a sneer. The goblin looked up in surprise then peered over the desk to look at Harry, whose head didn't even reach over the top of the counter.

"Does he have his key?" the goblin asked in a curiously flat voice, though he never moved back and continued to eye Harry thoughtfully.

Snape pulled out a tiny golden key from his large robes and placed it on the desk. The goblin finally turned his attention away from Harry, who had started to feel uncomfortable with that dark, assessing stare boring into his lowered head.

"May I have a word with Mister Potter, Lord Snape?" the goblin asked politely. Snape's eyes sharpened.

"Why would you need to do that?" he asked silkily.

The goblin's eyes were steady as he looked up at the intimidating figure that Snape made, "I need to discuss his inheritance with him."

Snape's expression didn't change but his voice had a note of confusion as he said, "His inheritance?"

"I cannot discuss it with anyone other than Mr. Potter unless they are his legal guardian or spouse," said the goblin solemnly. He saw the stiff look on Snape's face and his lips twisted up in a way that suggested a smile. "He will be kept safe; there is no need to worry Lord Snape."

Snape examined the face of the goblin for something that Harry wasn't sure of and then nodded his consent.

The goblin immediately bowed and called out, his voice loud enough to hear even in the bustling bank, "Griphook! Bring Mr. Potter to MasterRamadi in the Third Back room. Tell Master that he's to be told of his inheritance." A tiny goblin dressed in black and silver instead of red and gold hurried his way across the room and bowed lowly before Harry before gesturing for the boy to follow him. Snape remained at the desk, but his eyes never left Harry as the boy left the main hall.

Harry hurriedly followed the impatient, quick goblin out of the main hall and into a set of back rooms that were just as finely made as the main room was. They were made from black marble and had thick tapestries hung on the walls showing battles of goblins versus various creatures, the main enemies being human wizards. Harry was fascinated by the artwork but couldn't stop to examine it as Griphook rushed him onwards into one of the many rooms connected to the winding hallway.

The room was quiet and medium-sized, decorated in various shades of brown and blue. A large, shining brown desk stood in the back of the room with a plush chair pushed behind it and a long dark blue couch pushed in front of it. A fireplace stood in the corner and held the dying embers of a recent fire and some wood stood nearby to replenish it once the fire burned out.

Harry would notice all these details later; however at the moment his attention was drawn to the tall-ish goblin seated in the plush chair behind the desk, his beady, dark eyes fixed on Harry alone. He was dressed in blue velvet and he had tiny round spectacles perched on the edge of his pointed nose. The goblin looked at Griphook and the shorter, younger goblin bowed hastily.

"This is Mr. Potter, Master Ramadi," he said quickly. "He's to be told of his inheritance." Ramadi's eyes widened and he nodded to show he understood. With a final bow towards both goblin and wizard Griphook disappeared from the room, leaving Harry alone. Ramadi gestured for the boy to take a seat and he did so gingerly, as if afraid the couch was going to bite him.

"You are Mr. Harry James Potter, are you not?" he asked, folding his long fingered hands and placed his narrow chin on top of them. Harry nodded hesitantly. "Hm. Well this day had to come sooner or later," the goblin muttered to himself before bending low to get a stack of papers from the drawers of his desk. "Since you are a child, I very much doubt you'll understand much of this, Mr. Potter," he said stoutly. "However you have a right to know of your heritage, and it is not my place to deny it to you."

He slid the documents over the desk and Harry leaned forward to take them. His eyes widened when he saw a list of numbers on the first page.

"That is a list of the vaults you own as the last heir to Potter, Gryffindor, Black, and Le Fay families," Ramadi explained. "The Potter inheritance came from your biological father, James Potter, and Gryffindor blood has been in his family for generations. The Black you inherited from your," he paused and checked a paper before continuing, "godfather, a Lord Sirius Black, I believe. The Le Fay family has also been intertwined with the Black family for generations."

Harry blinked, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. He was just getting used to the idea that he was wizard and now he had all of _this_ to deal with as well? Ramadi must have seen his confusion for he tried to give a sympathetic smile. However goblin faces weren't meant for smiling, so he ended up just looking constipated instead. Harry gave him points for the effort.

"I know this must be overwhelming for you, Mr. Potter, so that is all the information I will give you currently. The next time you come back ask to see me and I will bring you down to your vaults. However, take that stack of papers," he nodded to the pile he had handed to Harry recently, "and look them over before you come back. If there isn't anything else you wish to ask, you are free to go and collect money from the vault your parent's set up for you in case anything should happen to them."

Harry nodded vaguely and with one hand tightly grasping the given papers and the other curled into a fist he left to the room and made his way back into the main hall to Snape.

* * *

Snape and Harry left Gringotts quickly after collecting his money – Harry was still in a daze that he had _that much money_, not to mention more if what the goblin was talking about was true. It was unbelievable to someone who'd never even had so much as a penny to his name his entire life. Snape had told him curtly that they were going to get Harry's wand first as it would take the longest of all the stuff he needed to buy. Harry had been looking forward to this. If there was one magical object that fascinated him completely, it had to be the wand.

Snape led him to the wand shop Ollivanders and they entered the silent, empty shop quietly. Sunbeams entered through the single, dirty window, shedding light on the dusty walls and countertop. The only piece of furniture was a single chair covered in worn red velvet sitting in the corner.

"Hello?" Harry called out as Snape settled into the chair, watching everything was his dark eyes. "Mr. Ollivander, are you in there?"

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Harry turned to see a white-haired old man with eerie, moon-like eyes watching him curiously from behind the counter. He was dressed in plain workman's clothes and a long brown frock and he was rubbing his old, worn hands down with a dirty handkerchief. "You came just on time."

"Are you Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked calmly, eyeing the strange man with interest.

The man smiled slightly, "Yes……yes I am. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. I have been waiting for a very……long time." Harry frowned in puzzlement at that statement but shrugged it off as Ollivander continued to talk. "You have your mother's eyes and face – it seems like only yesterday that she was in here, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches, swishy, and made of willow; it was a wonderful wand for Charms." Harry blinked at the sudden information about his parent's and the sad tone in Ollivander's voice.

"You father on the other hand preferred a mahghony wand. It was eleven inches and pliable, an excellent choice for Transfiguration, which I'm told he was particularly good at," Ollivander continued, turning away from his customers and heading into the dark depths of the long shelves behind his counter. It was silent for a long moment until he reappeared, a stack of boxed in one hand.

"Try this one first, Mr. Potter," he said calmly, sliding one box across the counter-top to Harry. "Nine inches, Beachwood and dragon heartstring. Nice and flexible." Harry hesitantly took out the wooden stick and it hung in his hand uselessly for a moment until he gave it a soft wave. He was shocked a large blast of _something_ came out of the wand and Ollivander immediately snatched it out of his hand. He looked over at Snape and was surprised that the man didn't seem disturbed by whatever had just come out of his wand. Frowning he turned back and found Ollivander giving him a curious look. However the man just shook his head and kept showering Harry with wands.

Every time he picked one up and waved it, he noticed the shock-wave of that silent, pressuring _something_ came out of the end. However it always felt _wrong_, like playing a bad chord on a piano or singing a note terribly off-key. Ollivander must have noticed it, for every time it happened he took the wand out of Harry's hand straightaway. Snape, however, never seemed to notice and Harry found that strange. Was this another one of his _powers_? He made a mental note to look up everything thing he could on the _Transition_ that Snape mentioned before they left and to take a look in the mirror to see those markings the Professor had told him about.

Ollivander looked more and more excited as the wands kept flashing by and Harry came no closer to finding his own. He rubbed his hands together and his moon-eyes sparked gleefully, "A tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find you your wand Mr. Potter……Here try this one……"

And on and on it went.

"Try this last one, Mr. Potter, and if it doesn't work for you we'll have to make a custom wand," Ollivander said, looking delighted at the prospect. "Nine and a half inches, Holly, and Phoenix Feather."

Harry picked it up and felt a wash of _something_ but unlike the previous wands this _something_ was warm and comfortable. However……Harry frowned. It felt alright, but still slightly off, as if it could work but it wasn't the best wand he could have. He put it back on the desk before Ollivander could say anything.

"It's not right," he said quietly when the older man looked down at him in question. Ollivander seemed startled for a moment before he smiled.

"No, I suppose it's not," he said softly. Louder he added in, "I suppose it shall have to be a custom wand then Mr. Potter. Come with me." He lifted a section of his desk and let Harry slid through and they both went to the back, leaving Snape behind in the dingy front room. Harry was surprised to see that behind the rows of shelves containing the pre-made wands there was a huge cabinet. Ollivander walked up to it and flung it open, revealing jars upon jars of ingredients and dozens of shelves filled with various woods. Harry stared in slack-jawed awe at the sight.

"Now, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said briskly, "I need you to close your eyes and reach out with your magical senses; it should come instinctively so don't try too hard boy. When something feels _right_ to you – and you'll know what I mean – you are to pick it up and set it over there," he pointed at a small, low table nearby the cabinet that Harry hadn't noticed before. "Now – close your eyes Mr. Potter!" he clapped his hands impatiently, a happy gleam brightening his eerie eyes.

Harry did as he was told and soon his world was dark. He frowned as he realized he still couldn't feel _anything_. Carefully he stretched out his fingers and concentrated. Suddenly his world burst into color and he could see the lights dancing around him in twirling loops and lazy swirls. Harry watched, fascinated, as the colors began to organize themselves – some (mostly those of white and blue) went to swirl tightly around the blank shadow that Harry assumed was Ollivander. Other protected the small, shadowy outlines of the magical wand materials. And a few – only four – came straight at him, unraveling like the line of a long thread.

He eyed them for a moment; the colors that had chosen Harry were a bright, fiery crimson, the cool blue of an autumn day, a deep, rich purple, and a grassy green two shades lighter than his eyes. They were connected to his chest – directly to his heart if Harry wasn't mistaken – and led, like a piece of string, to a certain object in the cabinet. Confident, Harry followed them and carefully picked up the objects in order – red, blue, purple, and green. Then he felt his way to the table and set them down carefully before opening his eyes.

The colors had disappeared.

Confused Harry didn't notice at first the ingredients that he had chosen. However he soon got over his shock at suddenly losing the colorful world he looked down at the bottles in interest.

The first bottle (the red one, Harry absently noted) held a wood – what kind, Harry had no idea, but it was multiple colors, the most prominent being a becoming dark-red that also had thick stripes of ebony black, dark brown, and light gray swirling down it. The next bottle held a black feather that had glossy blue-green streaks running through it that seemed to take over the entire bottle it was so big. The third bottle was small and filled with a liquid that Harry was sure was blood, even though the color wavered between black and red. And the final bottle held a thin, curved, white bone-like object that looked like some sort of tooth to Harry's inexperienced eyes.

He looked up at Ollivander, who looked both pleased and confused by the combination of objects that Harry had managed to pick. Noticing the boy's stare, the old wizard started to explain the ingredients.

"The wood," he said, pointing a long finger at the bottle containing it, "was an experiment of mine a long time ago. The base is made of Redwood, and I mixed Ebony, Ash, and Yew in with it – you'll notice the streaks that make. I never thought it would work, so I put it in the back until I had a special customer I could try it for. The first core you chose is the feather of a Thunder Phoenix – they're very rare to find these days, and I only got that feather by luck and chance. The Thunder Phoenix is a phoenix that represents not only life and rebirth but passion, beauty, and grace," Harry shuffled awkwardly under Ollivander's curious stare. "The second core is the blood of a Thestral – very interesting because _that_ core is the complete opposite of the feather. It represents death, apathy, and disdain, but also wit, a keen mind, and loyalty. And your final core is a fang of a Basilisk – it took a lot of courage for me to get _that_, I assure you. The fang represents cunning, deadliness in a fight, cold passion, and a ruthless mind." Ollivander picked up the glasses Harry had set down and took out his own wand – 14 inches, Holly wood with a faerie hair as a core – and began making preparations. "All in all," he muttered, "this will make a very interesting wand."

Harry watched with fascination as Ollivander took out his wood and began to speak in a stream of seamless Latin, the words changing so fast that Harry couldn't make them out. Slowly the wood began to _morph_, changing from a solid block of wood into a long, slender stick with a narrow handle. Carefully Ollivander picked out the feather and the fang from their bottles and started to murmur again, this time waving the wand in his free hand once or twice. The two cores vanished in a shimmer of light into Harry's wand and Ollivander picked up the final core. Carefully, using a spell, he pulled the blood out of the bottle and hung it suspended in the air while he did the same spell he'd been using before to make it vanish into the wand.

Ollivander stopped speaking for a minute and eyed the wand before muttering a soft spell in Latin that glossed the wood until it shone beautifully. Then, with some reverence, he handed it to Harry to test. Harry took it into the palm of his hand and waved it, smiling when the _something_ came out warm and comforting, with none of the slippery uneasiness of the holly wand behind it. A shower of blue and gold sparks floated out of the wand, showing that Harry had indeed found his match and Ollivander clapped happily.

"Good, good! I'm very happy you found your wand Mr. Potter – or should I say your wand found you? After all, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around," he muttered to himself, ignoring Harry's bemused look. "Well; your wand is 13 and a half inches, a mixture of woods, with a Thunder Phoenix feather, Thestral blood and a Basilisk fang as your core. However we'd better be getting back to Lord Snape – he's hardly a patient man, or so I've heard, and doubtless he is wondering what might be taking us so long." Harry smiled and made his way out of the back room. With his back to the old wizard, he didn't notice when Ollivander's eyes glazed over in thought.

_'That wand……'_ the wandmaker thought, glancing at the slim wooden stick clasped in the boy's right hand. _'I was right about this boy. He is most unusual. That wand is full of contradictions – death and life, light and dark, love and hatred, peace and war……It will be interesting to see him grow.'_

* * *

Tucking his wand away in one of the large pockets of his baggy clothing, Harry turned up to look at Snape, who understood his silent question and gave a sigh.

"Next we'll go to Madame Malkin's; hopefully she'll help you look less like a street urchin and more like a respectable wizard," he sounded as if he doubted that she actually could.

Harry smiled slightly and shook his head; Snape was _weird_ but in a good way – a way that Harry liked. Had he gotten someone else as his guide into the wizarding world, he wasn't sure that it would've nearly turned out as well. Snape didn't hide anything from him, and when Harry asked questions he answered them – reluctantly, of course, but he answered them nonetheless. Plus Harry didn't really……_like_ regular people anymore; not to say that he hated happiness, but more that the way he'd been raised had given him a more bitter view of the world compared to normal children. He appreciated that Snape didn't coddle him and was strict with him.

The twosome made their way down the busy streets of Diagon Alley, occasionally talking when Harry had a question that needed answering, but otherwise staying quiet. Eventually they came to a stop in front of a down-to-earth looking shop with the plain sign of 'Madame Malkin's' hanging over the doorway. Snape entered first, Harry following cautiously behind, and thus was the first to see the only other two people shopping at the moment: Lucius and Draco Malfoy.

Inwardly Severus groaned. Since he was such good friends with the Malfoy family he was aware that soon Lucius would become curious about his young charge and inevitably come over for a chat and a chance to be insufferably nosy. And he had no doubt that he would become more curious about Potter as they talked and would most likely end up joining their little shopping spree.

Sure enough as soon as he completed his train of thought Lucius looked up and spotted him and Potter and instantly his mercury eyes lightened with excitement and curiosity. He quickly made his way over to them, Draco at his side, and stopped in front of Severus with the slight twitch of the lips that constituted as a warm smile for Lucius Malfoy.

"Hello Severus," he said in a warm tone. "Who is this?" he added in, peering down at Harry who stared up at him with calm green eyes.

Sometimes Severus thought he knew his friend_ too_ well.

"Lucius," he breathed out wearily, "this is Harry Potter. Headmaster Dumbledore _persuaded_ me to bring him around Diagon to get his school supplies."

Lucius' lip twitched and Severus knew that his friend would be imagining exactly _how_ Albus got him to agree. Well he wasn't going to say anything about being stuffed with tea and then talked to until he just agreed so he could get out of the room and away from the bloody lemon drops. There was no need for Lucius to know such details.

"Would you like us to accompany you?" Lucius asked his face guarded again. He had good reason; Harry Potter was a Light wizard's son, and had he been raised in anything other than a muggle home the boy would likely hate the Malfoy's as passionately as the Weasley family. Now though……if Lucius and Draco didn't manage to muck it up somehow, they might have Harry Potter on their side. And considering the large and varied amounts of gifts the brat had received, he had no doubt that being friends with Potter was a good thing indeed.

Oh yes, he knew about the gifts. He'd stayed up late into the night, researching the marks that had been tattooed into Harry Potter's skin, and had been astounded at what he'd found. He'd been amused when the brat and lied straight to his face about the gifts: if Potter truly had some of the abilities Severus thought he did, than he would have started using them immediately. Though, the fact that a _Potter_ was Slytherin enough to lie about having his gifts because he didn't know if he could trust Snape……it was more than a little bit astounding.

"I wouldn't mind. Does it matter to you, Professor Snape," Potter's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and large green eyes looked up at him in pure innocence, making Severus sighed. No matter how abrasive a man he was, even he couldn't deny the power behind the cuteness of that look.

"If you don't mind following us around like mindless puppies, Lucius, then you are most welcome to join," Severus said, his usual sarcasm falling flat in the presence of his friend. Lucius laughed and placed a hand on an uncomfortable looking Draco's shoulder.

"Mr. Potter, this is my son, Draco Malfoy," he said, giving the blond boy a little push to Potter.

The brunet gave him a measuring look before sticking his hand out for Draco to shake. The young Malfoy blinked at it for a moment before hesitantly taking it in his own, smiling a bit. Despite himself, Severus relaxed. Draco wasn't the best at making friends; most of the pure-blood playmates he'd had as a child thought him to be too spoiled to play with. They weren't wrong, but they never looked for the side of Draco that was more than the spoiled Malfoy prince; the side that Severus and Lucius saw everyday. It was heartening to see how easily Potter could accept his godson.

"It's nice to meet you, Draco," Harry said quietly as their handshake ended.

"Likewise, Harry," Draco drawled, a skill he'd obviously learned from his father. Then he looked up me with a bright smile. "Hello Uncle Severus," despite being told that Severus was his godfather, Draco persisted in calling him 'Uncle' whenever they were together. It was both annoying and endearing to Severus, something Draco managed to pull off quite often.

"We were just about to get some robes for Mr. Potter," Severus said, putting a hand on Potter's shoulder and steering the child further into the shop. Soon an elderly looking witch appeared from the back and raised an eyebrow at seeing the foursome there.

"Lord Snape, Lord Malfoy, Heir Malfoy," she said and then turned to Harry. "Who might you be then child?"

"Harry Potter, ma'am," Potter said before Severus could intervene and introduce the brat himself.

Madame Malkin nodded, not at all ruffled by this information. "You're both first year Hogwarts students, yes?" she questioned, gesturing for the foursome to follow her into the back of the shop. When the two adults answered in the affirmative she nodded decisively and herded the children onto two stools before sweeping black robes over their heads and calling for an assistant. A younger, taller witch swept over to them and immediately started on Draco's robes without even needing telling. Severus watching with approval and made a mental note to find an apprentice like that.

Potter listened to Malkin's constant stream of conversation as she babbled on about Quidditch, Hogwarts, and every other subject that she could think of that would make no sense to the child. Shaking his head in annoyance, Severus spoke up to keep the woman from confusing his charge even more than he already was.

"Madame," he said silkily, drawing Malkin's attention to him immediately, even as her hands continued to expertly pin and place. "I would be grateful if you could also add in some informal and dress robes for Mr. Potter; this is the first time he's had any." Instantly Potter had her sympathy and she cooed over him as she tried to figure out what fabrics and styles she should try on her new doll, still pinning the black Hogwarts robes to the boy's small body.

Draco whined to his father and eventually managed to convince the man to buy him new robes also, despite the fact that the blond had more than enough of them in his closet at home. Thanks to Draco's insistence, the group of wizards stayed in Madame Malkin's for an extra half-hour. Eventually they all left the shops, the adults with shrunken packages in their pockets and their gold bags somewhat lighter.

"Have you already been to Ollivanders Severus?" Lucius asked idally, his eyes focused on Draco who was chattering happily at an intently listening Potter.

"Yes, that was the first shop we went to, other than Gringotts," Severus answered.

Lucius nodded, "We were just there as well. Well……that leaves only their books, equipment, and pets to get. We should also stop at Rosethorn's," he added, with a thoughtful look at Potter.

Severus' eyes narrowed, "Why would we need to stop there?" Rosethorn's was an expensive and excellent shop for formal and casual wear for the fashion-conscious wizard. Or, at least, that's what they said in their ads. Severus had never been in the shop himself, but he'd seen the clothes Draco and Lucius wore from there and he had to admit they were stylish. However Rosethorn's didn't just sell robes – they also had muggle clothing for all ages and gender in their shop as well.

"Draco seems determined to become attached to Mr. Potter," Lucius said with his usual sneering honesty. "My son will not become……friends with anyone that looks like a ragamuffin. Where did he _get_ those clothes?"

Severus sighed, "They most likely belonged to his cousin who is two times his weight, Lucius. He hasn't had a……happy childhood." Severus didn't say anything more; if Potter wanted the Malfoys to know of his sob story, than the brat could tell them himself.

Lucius raised an eyebrow but didn't question. Instead he tapped his cane on the ground briskly and said, "Well, I believe our next stop will be Flourish and Blotts. Boys!" he called and the two children hurried to his side. Severus just sighed; he had a feeling this was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

Harry stretched tiredly as he, Snape, and the two Malfoy men made their way to Magical Menagerie. They'd spent the last hour walking around Diagon, getting the two newest Hogwarts student's their supplies and now, finally, they were at their last two stores. Harry wasn't sure what he'd been expecting the shopping trip to be like, but it hadn't been _anything_ like this.

He gave a side-long glance at their two guests and his forehead furrowed in thought. Draco was……nice, although he was a bit on the spoiled side. Harry would've been reminded of Dudley if he hadn't spent the last hour with the boy and realized that despite being rich he didn't have very many people his own age to spend time with. Mr. Malfoy, on the other hand, was harder to read. He _looked_ like a snobbish, stuck-up man but Harry had seen him cave quite easily to Draco's puppy-dog eyes when the younger blonde had wanted a more expensive cauldron. Surely a man made of ice wouldn't be wooed by _puppy-dog__eyes_?

Harry was cut from his musings when Draco gave his shoulder a little shake to tell him that they were there. Harry shook his head, trying to clear cobwebs, and then followed his three companions into the small, dark shop.

Instantly he clapped his hands over his ears; the store was loud; every animal was yelling and screaming from their own corners and Harry could still hear them even through his plugged ears. He blinked in surprise when he realized that he wasn't just hearing animal noises like his companions, but actually _words_……

"(Stop!)" he said weakly and was relieved when the nearest animal to him (a large tabby cat) started and was instantly silent, its wide green eyes staring at him in shock. Instantly the cat turned to its neighbor and began to meow urgently.

Harry, still able to understand the animal's words, heard a low whisper of, "(……boy……can hear……tell everyone……)"

"(What……)" Harry winced, his head throbbing as the noise deafened around him, "(are you talking about?)"

The cat's shocked yowl made Harry tighten his hands around his ears. By now Snape and the Malfoys had noticed his pain and were giving him worried looks (or as worried as Slytherins can get). Snape had a hand on Harry's shoulder and the pressure was comforting against the dizzying chaos around him. Harry concentrated on the hand, trying to ground himself, and suddenly the noise quieted and then, eventually stopped. Panting as if he'd just run a mile, Harry lowered his hands from his ears and stared around the now quiet shop, unnerved. Every animal was staring at him.

"Sweet Merlin, Severus……" Lucius breathed. "He's a Beastspeaker?"

Severus gave Lucius a sharp look but the awe in the other man's eyes had him sighing. "Yes he is a Beastspeaker," he muttered, reluctant to tell his friend about Potter without the boy's permission. If there was one thing Severus valued it was privacy.

Harry, who had been recovering from the over-dose and ignoring their conversation, suddenly burst away from Snape's side and moved to deeper into the now silent store. Animal eyes followed him as he walked, making Harry somewhat nervous but also determined. He could feel a _pulling_ at his heart and with every step he took it got harder and harder. Eventually he stopped in front of a cage of a bird.

It wasn't an owl, Harry thought as he peered in through the bars. It was a medium sized bird with pitch black feathers and sharp golden eyes. It looked like a raven or a crow, in fact. Harry reached out a hand and the bird looked surprised before hesitantly moving forward to touch his beak with Harry's palm. When skin met bone, Harry felt a _zap_ of energy and suddenly he could feel something tugging at him again. He walked away but gave the bird a reassuring look over his shoulder; he would be back for it.

The cage he stopped in front of this time was a cat carrier; Harry recognized it thanks to the crazy cat lady that lived nearby him who always carried her precious animals inside of them. Harry bent down slightly and blinked when he came face to face with large, teal kitten eyes.

The tiny cat was black all over, like the raven, except for thin white bands around the wrists of its paws. However the most fascinating thing about the kitten was the small, folded black wings on its back. Harry reached out a hand, wanting to touch them, and the kitten pushed its nose into his palm, causing another zap of sensation. Harry nearly groaned when he felt another animal tugging at his heart and with one final longing look at the kitten's wings he got up and followed the tugging.

This cage was made of smooth glass with only a few holes drilled through to give the animal air. Harry peered down into it and raised an eyebrow when he realized that it was a snake. It wasn't that big – Harry thought maybe it was about 3 feet in length and probably about a half-foot or so in diameter – and its scales glistened a lustrous black under the dim lighting (absently Harry wondered if he just attracted black things – it seemed like all his future pets were to be of that color) and when it turned Harry could see that it had a dark red underbelly. It had a hood, like a cobra, and its cunning serpent eyes were a dark silver color.

Harry, knowing what to do now, cautiously opened the top of the box and held out a hand for the snake to touch. The snake uncoiled itself instantly and lifted its head to Harry's palm, igniting the zap of sensation like the two previous animals. Harry was relieved when there was no immediate tugging on his heart and took that to mean that he'd found all of his animals. Carefully he closed the box again and picked it up in one arm before heading back for the kitten and the raven. He had a hard time managing all the boxes and cages but he managed to make it back to the front desk, where the manager of the store was still frozen in shock.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, setting down the cages with relief. The manager snapped out of her daze and stared down at Harry with something bordering on awe. "I'd like to buy these three."

The woman raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything against it, instead opting to ring the three animals up. Snape, however, placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Mr. Potter, you cannot bring all of those animals with you to Hogwarts……" he started to lecture. Harry sighed.

"Professor Snape, what does it mean when an animal calls out for you," he asked, interrupting the man mid-rant. Snape's eyes widened.

"It means that the animals are your familiars……and that by wizarding law no school institution or government is authorized to separate you from them. Is that what you felt with those three?" he added in, tilting his head to the three cages. Harry nodded.

"If that's true than these animals are my familiars and Headmaster Dumbledore won't be able to say I can't bring them with me, because he's bound by wizarding law. Right?"

Snape sighed and removed his hand, "That is correct Mr. Potter. You will have to inform Headmaster of this predicament, but he can do nothing to stop you."

Harry nodded and then turned his attention back to the manager, who had been waiting quietly to the side.

"Are there any details I need to know about taking care of them?" he asked politely.

The woman shrugged, "They should be easy enough to care for. The bird is a raven – it will likely be fairly independent, as will your winged cat. The snake will need to be kept warm and fed with some sort of live animal – mice usually work well. Mice will also work for your cat, but you can ask the House Elves at Hogwarts – that is where you're going isn't it? – to get the appropriate food. I'm sure that the raven will be able to find its own food if you let it out often enough." She finished ringing the animals up and added in, "The total comes to 24 galleons, 5 sickles, and a knut."

Harry nodded and carefully pulled the money out of the small pouch he'd been using to carry it around and pushing it across the desk. The woman gave him a smile and waved him towards the cages. Harry gave her a nod and then looked up at Snape, silently asking for help carrying the cages.

Snape sighed and directed the manager's attention to himself, "Madame, could you please look after these animals for a half-hour? My companions and I are going next door to Rosethorn's, but having the cages with us would only hinder us."

The lady raised an eyebrow but nodded, "Be sure to come back and get them by 3:30 then," she said and returned back to her work.

"Come, Potter," Snape said, with an impatient flick of his hands. "One more store and then I'm taking you back to Privet Drive. This is more shopping than I ever wanted to do in my life," he muttered under his breath as he led Harry back to the two astounded looking Malfoys. "Lucius close your mouth – it isn't befitting of a Malfoy Lord to look like a witless moron. Come, let's go to Rosethorn's."

Lucius closed his mouth with a snap and regained his usual snobbish posture, Draco following his example. With a haughty sniff in the direction of the clerk he swept of the store, Draco, Snape, and Harry following closely behind. Harry, walking next to Draco, turned to his friend questioningly.

"Why didn't you get anything Draco?" he asked.

The blond's mouth twisted into something between a smirk and a smile, "I already have an owl at home. Father gave it to me last Christmas."

Harry nodded in understanding and didn't ask anymore. Draco, however, couldn't stand the silence and began to babble about Hogwarts and his home life. Harry listened with half an ear; he processed the information but didn't give it much thought.

Rosethorn's was close-by to Magical Menagerie, so the foursome made it there quite quickly. It was a fairly large looking store with a fancy looking sign and glass window displays. Harry sighed but said nothing as Mr. Malfoy urged them through the front doors. He looked over his shoulder at Snape, the last one to enter the shop, and received a commiserating look from the man. He wasn't the only one that was going to hate this.

When they entered they were immediately waited on by a handsome looking blonde man with sparkly teeth and bright blue eyes. Harry personally thought that he looked like he was a stereotypical model but didn't voice it aloud – if the Dursley's had taught him anything, it was to hold his tongue. Snape, however, had no such qualms.

"Stop talking you twittering buffoon," the man muttered, his arms crossed against his chest. "Leave us be if you don't have anything of importance to say and go to staring at yourself in the mirror to settle your narcissist tendencies." The man gave Snape an offended look before stalking off. Lucius just sighed.

"I can't take you anywhere," he told Snape who just gave him a _look_ (Harry made a note to copy that look as soon as he could – it was very effective in shutting people up).

Soon a graceful looking man swept into the room, his dark eyes set on their little group. Harry stumbled a bit as Lucius pushed both Draco and him forward towards the man, who looked inordinately pleased at having two subjects to play with. Harry shivered at the alarming similarity to Madame Malkin and wondered despairingly if the torture would ever _end_.

"Welcome to Rosethorn's," the man said to Snape and Mr. Malfoy. "I am Hector Johnson, and I'll be working with you today." He paused, looking down at Draco. "Lord Malfoy, this is your heir, is it not?" he asked and Mr. Malfoy tilted his head in a slight nod. The man nodded to himself and looked down at Harry questioningly. "Then who is this? He doesn't look to be your child, Lord Snape……"

Snape glowered at Hector but answered in a low hiss, "This is Mr. Harry Potter."

Hector's eyes changed as soon as Snape said Harry's name – instead of being business like and calm they were now full of pity. Harry hated that and he stared up at the man without blinking, satisfied when Hector looked away with discomfort but none of that disgusting pity in his eyes.

"Very well, bring them this way and I'll see what I can do," he said, walking towards a series of stools. Harry felt like whimpering. Why had he ever decided to come to the Wizarding world……It was torture……

* * *

When they returned to Privet Drive it was with a trunk full of clothes and books, three cages, and Malfoy-less. Harry had promised to try and meet with Draco on the train to Hogwarts – he liked the blond and he _was_ his first friend after. Living with the Dursley's didn't exactly give you an awesome social life, especially if Dudley was spreading rumors behind your back……

Harry looked up at Snape, who looked just as relieved to finally be done with shopping. "Well, Mr. Potter," he said as Number 4 drew closer. "The train leaves at 11:00 AM on September 1st – do _not_ be late, because more than likely it will leave without you. The platform is 9 3/4 – you can get to it by going through Platforms 9 and 10. Here is your ticket," Snape handed him a scrap of paper that had the Platform number written in bright letters on it. "Do not lose that ticket; do you understand me Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded seriously. "Good. I will see you at Hogwarts then Mr. Potter. Have a……good day," Harry snickered at the pained look on Snape's face. Being pleasant obviously pained the man.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, sir," he said quietly. "Thank you for helping with my shopping."

Snape nodded and turned to sweep down the road to a place where he could Apparate. Harry watched his dramatic leave with a smile before turning to face his door. With a deep breath he pushed open the door to what should have been called home.

"I'm back……!" he called out.

"BOY!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:** It probably isn't the best idea to start another series, but when I finally (finally!) finished this chapter, I had to post it. Updates might be pretty slow, seeing as I'm occupied with other stories too, but I'll do my best to keep them regular. Please leave a review!

**The Rite of Transition (11****th**** birthday): **On a Wizard's 11th birthday they go through the _Rite of Transition_. This happens at exactly noon on a Wizard's 11th year of living. During the _Rite of Transition_ the Wizard inherits all gifts that are passed down through his bloodline (i.e. Sorcery, Necromancy, Aura Sight, Animagus Potential, ect.) and any Creature Inheritances that are in his bloodline appear (i.e. Malfoy's with their Veela Inheritance and Zabini's with their Siren inheritance, ect.). This is the reason Hogwarts only sends for their children at 11 years of age. Pure-blooded families usually have a chamber for their children to go through the _Rite of Transition_, but Muggle-born children get a Professor from Hogwarts coming to their house a half-hour before the Rite starts. _Usually_ the Rite only takes anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour; powerful children with more abilities passed down will take longer than weak children with less abilities. The only known rites that have lasted beyond three hours in history are Tom Riddle's and Harry Potter's.

**(1)** Think Vincent from Final Fantasy for Harry's hairstyle.  
**(2)** Most of these symbols exist, and you can look them up if you can't picture them or want to know what they are. I just picked random symbols mostly - sometimes it has a definite meaning to it. I'll probably put up some pictures later on my homepage.  
**(3)** The funny thing about this is that the goblin in canon is also wearing red and gold – were you trying to tell us something JK?

_(1)_ Taken from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ Page 34 US paperback edition  
_(2)_ Taken from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ Page 51 US paperback edition  
_(3)_ Taken from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ Page 66 US paperback edition  
_(4)_ Taken from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ Page 72-73, US paperback edition


	2. Hogwarts and a Ceremony

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your reviews, guys! I'm really glad you've liked it so far.

"Speaking" / _'Thinking' _/ _Letter_ / (Beastspeech) / **"Spell"**

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Chosen of Hogwarts  
****Chapter Two: Hogwarts and a Ceremony**

"Her death has all the pathetic uselessness of martyrdom, all its wasted beauty." (The Picture of Dorian Grey)

"Every man has his own destiny: the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him." (Henry Miller)

In retrospect, Victor was always a little unclear about those next few minutes. That's the way it goes. The moments that change your life are the ones that happen suddenly, like the one where you die. (Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures)

"Students?" barked the Archchancellor.  
"Yes, Master. You know? They're the thinner ones with the pale faces? Because we're a university? They come with the whole thing, like rats " (Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures)

The most decisive actions of our lives-I mean the ones that are most likely to decide the whole course of our future-are more often than not, unconsidered. (Andre Gide)

"He means well" is useless unless he does well. (Plautus)

Every man has three characters; that which he exhibits, that which he has, and that which he thinks he has. (Alphonse Karr)

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Magic  
****September 1****st****, 1991; 12:01 AM**

_'They're coming!'_

Hogwarts, which had been asleep for nearly three centuries, suddenly snapped awake, its personal magic stirring around it as it came to life. Slowly Hogwarts came back to itself, and remembered what had awakened it from its long sleep. Had it been human, it would have felt joy. Its children, _its chosen_, were coming that day. They would be among the newest of its charges, the ones that the others called "First Years". Happiness echoing in every stone of its walls, Hogwarts decided what it needed to do.

Carefully it extended its magic towards the only other being in the castle who knew it was alive. The Sorting Hat had been peacefully sleeping, having just finished his newest song for the new school year a few hours ago, but he awoke when Hogwarts pushed against him with magic impatiently.

_'Hm? Oh, my dear Hogwarts. What is it this time?'_ The Hat sounded annoyed. Hogwarts rarely bothered him, but he didn't appreciate being awoken so soon after he'd gotten some much needed sleep.

Images flashed in the darkness of his hat. _Robes, the symbol of a seven pointed star above a pair of scales, five vague figures, and the stool he sat on at the beginning of each year._

The Sorting Hat was instantly alert and he said to the sentient castle, _'It's going to be this year? My, my, I'll have to add a new verse to this year's song . . . .'_

Hogwarts, satisfied, withdrew from the Headmaster's Office, leaving the Sorting Hat to figure out rhymes for the newest verse of his song. Now all it had left to do was wait for its chosen to come to it. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

**Privet Drive, Surrey, England  
****September 1st, 1991; 1:21 AM**

Privet Drive was silent and still in the early hours of September 1st, as all but one of the occupants was asleep in their beds. The night was muggy and thick, but the building clouds in the dark sky foretold rain in the coming days that would end the heat spell.

Harry Potter looked up as he heard a crackle of thunder across the sky. He smiled at the sight of lightning against the sky – he loved storms, and if one was going to happen tonight it gave him even more reason to stay up. Rubbing his eyes he put the book he'd been reading to the side and adjusted the small lamp he'd managed to convince Petunia into giving him.

Vernon had been furious when Petunia had informed him about how Harry was going to that – in his words – "freak school of his no good parents". Harry had remained quiet and still as Vernon ranted until he calmed enough for Petunia to move in and smooth things over. She had convinced him to give Harry the second bedroom with comments about how _those people_ were watching the house, and how the consequences would be dire if they found out that the boy lived in a cupboard (she conveniently forgot to mention that one of them already knew). So Harry had been bundled up into Dudley's spare bedroom, all with complaints from the original owner of the room that came to no avail; Petunia was determined, and Harry doubted that any whines from her son was going to stop her.

Petunia had also managed to convince Vernon to let Harry keep his trunk. She'd told him that it was unlikely Harry could manage to do anything to them at all – after all he was a "worthless scrap of a boy with a brain hardly worth mentioning". Harry had felt oddly amused by that comment; it sounded more like something Professor Snape would say than his Aunt Petunia. But he had a lot to thank her for; he doubted he would manage as well in the wizarding world if he hadn't been given the time to read the books he'd purchased in Diagon Alley.

When they'd entered Flourish & Blotts on their shopping spree, Harry had been eastic. He liked reading, and with such an interesting subject as magic there was so much he wanted to learn. He'd picked out far more books than he'd needed to, all on various subjects. The looks Mr. Malfoy and Snape had given him when he showed up at the front desk with a huge tower of books had been quite amusing.

However, Harry had set his books aside for the night to look over the documents that Ramadi had given him in Gringotts. He hadn't glanced at any of them yet as he was content to just absorb the wizarding world before he started to look at his own inheritance. Harry looked down at the papers in his hand and absently noted that they were made of the same thick parchment as his Hogwarts letter had been. Carefully he scanned down the first page, making sure to miss nothing.

_MISTER HARRY POTTER  
__Vault Inheritance_

_Potter Vault (#1202):_ _Contains 2,978,625,361 galleons, 391,103,429,089,958 sickles, and 408,819,254,901,291,009 knuts of wizarding money, 2,290,000 pounds of muggle money, 10,000,000 galleons in priceless wizarding artifacts and gemstones, and many personal family items left there by Mr. Potter's parents for his future use._

_Gryffindor Vault (#9889):_ _Contains 947,000,000,000 galleons, 301,972,485,472,193,481 sickles, and 736,394,458,105,683,583,593 knuts of wizarding money, 9,000,000,000 pounds of muggle money, 200,000,000 galleons in priceless wizarding artifacts, and many Gryffindor heirlooms._

_Black Vault (#1401):_ _Contains 818,000,000,000 galleons, 374,194,928,248,167 sickles, and 5,194,394,295,184,058 knuts of wizarding money, 300,000 pounds of muggle money, 540,000,000 galleons in priceless wizarding artifacts, and many Black heirlooms._

_Le Fay Vault (#9991):_ _Contains 901,000,000,000,000 galleons, 385,294,492,048,385,395 sickles, and 294,597,295,039,687,295,029 knuts of wizarding money, 600,000 pounds of muggle money, 120,000,000,000 galleons in priceless wizarding artifacts, and Le Fay heirlooms._

Harry's eyes had widened progressively as he read through the sheet. He had always been poor – the Dursleys had never even allowed him pocket change for lunch, let alone regular money – and have _that much money_ was a supreme shock. Harry could hardly believe the numbers. Shaking off his daze he flipped through the stack to the next page.

_MISTER HARRY POTTER  
__Land Inheritance_

_Potter Line: Godric's Hollow (England, Located Unknown), Potter Manor (England, Location Unknown), Apartment #201 (London, England), Potter Summer Home (Madrid, Spain), Marauder's House of Mischief (London England)._

_Gryffindor Line: ¼ of Hogwarts Castle (Scotland, Location Unknown), Gryffindor Castle (Scotland, Location Unknown), Gryffindor Manor (England, Location Unknown), Gryffindor Summer Home (Venice, Italy)._

_Black Line:_ _Black Manor (England, Location Unknown), Black Alley (part of Square Alleys, England), Grimmauld Place (London, England), Black Summer Home (Hokkaido, Japan), Get-Away Home (Outback, Australia), Padfoot's Pad (Paris, France). _

_Le Fay Line: Le Fay Castle (Scotland, Location Unknown), Le Fay Manor (Outside of Dublin, Scotland), Hidden Cottage (Location Unknown)._

Harry blinked rapidly re-reading the words over and over again to make sure it was true. When he had finally convinced himself, it was hard to keep in a yell of joy. He had homes! He could leave the Dursley's! He couldn't keep the large grin off of his face. He was definitely going to go back to Gringotts so he could ask about the exact locations of some of his houses. Excitedly he shuffled through the rest of the papers and was startled when a small note fell out.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I have taken the liberty to add in the family trees of your various bloodlines and descriptions of the most likely gifts you may have inherited during your Rite of Transition. If you have need of any more information, you are welcome to come to me for help._

_Sincerely,  
__Master Goblin Ramadi_

Harry smiled as he set the card and eagerly picked up the remaining sheets of parchment. There were five extremely thick pieces that were obviously folded, and Harry supposed that those were his family trees. He set them aside, deciding that early morning wasn't the best time to look over them properly. Instead he picked up the remaining two sheets of parchment that had detailed pictures and descriptions written on it.

Harry scanned it carefully, looking for any familiar symbols. He'd finally gotten the chance to look at himself and he'd been stunned by his new tattoos. He was still clueless as to what most of them meant, but maybe this sheet would help him figure out what they were. His eyes stopped on a familiar symbol and he stopped to read the description next to it.

_Ouroboros: A snake biting its tail, the Ouroboros usually signifies never-ending life. The wizarding gift it depicts depends on the placement and color. If the placement of the Ouroboros is above the shoulders, and the color is darker (blue, purple, black, brown, ect.) then it usually signifies an ability in Scrying. If it is below the shoulders and a lighter color (white, yellow, orange, red, ect.) then it usually signifies the ability in Tarot, or fortune-telling._

Harry blinked and remembered the deep purple snake circling his neck. Had it been biting its tail? Harry was pretty sure that it had. _'So I can . . . scry? Whatever that is,'_ he thought, making a mental note to look up the gift as soon as he could. He scanned the rest of the paper and found three more symbols that looked familiar.

_Ankh:_ _A cross with a loop at the top, the Egyptian Ankh was worn in the ancient days by Pharaohs as a connection to the Gods. The Ankh is often seen with gifts such as Mental Magic (Occlumency, Legilimency, Telekinesis, ect.), and Warding. Usually if the Ankh is somewhere in the head region, it symbolizes Mind Magic, and if it is on the arms it symbolizes Warding. The color of the Ankh is not as important as it is in other gifts, but it should be noted that most users with a particular strong gift that deals with this symbol have had the tattoo painted in bright, vivid colors against their skin, red and orange being the most often seen._

_Japanese Kanji (Element):_ _The Japanese Kanji for Element is tattooed for an Elemental who has not yet discovered their key elements. Once the Elemental has discovered and mastered its key element, the Kanji will disappear and be replaced with the element's specific tattoo. The symbols for the elements are completely dependant on the individual and their own trials trying to get master that element. There are 10 elements that can be mastered and tattooed into the skin (Fire, Weather, Water, Earth, Air, Metal, Stone, Sand, Wood and Glass), but there have been hybrids in the past (such as Water and Air to make Ice and/or snow, Fire and Weather to make Lightning, ect.). Most Elementals can control at least five elements, with only one or two as their most proficient._

_Moon of Diana:_ _Diana is the Greek Goddess of the Hunt, and the Moon is well-known as her individual symbol. This tattoo is unique only to Beastspeech, and scholars who have studied transition gifts and their tattoos suppose that since Diana can technically be seen as the Goddess of wilderness and animals, her symbolic moon is only appropriate for a gift that gives the user the ability to speak all animal languages._

Harry was relieved that he found out what a couple of his gifts were, even if he had known about the Beastspeech already. He flipped over the last page and was surprised to find another note written by Ramadi at the very end.

_Mr. Potter,_

_If you have gifts that cannot be found on these papers, you may have to search harder into your family lines to find them. On the family trees I have given you, each name should have their transition gifts listed somewhere. If I may, I would recommend you a dictionary to transition tattoos. It is called 'Beginner's Guide to the Rite of Transition' by Anthony Scare and you should be able to find it in the Hogwarts Library. If not, Flourish & Blotts should have them in stock._

_Yours sincerely,  
__Master Goblin Ramadi_

Harry made a mental note to give Ramadi his thanks when he next saw the goblin and put the sheets down. He looked over at the family trees, wondering if he should look through them or now, and then decided that it would be best if he left them for tomorrow.

Harry got up from his bed, stretching out his sore muscles, and ambled over to his closet, where his animals were. He flung open the doors and smiled when the three animals in the closet woke and looked up at him.

"(I just wanted to say I'm going to sleep)," he said to each of them in their own particular language.

"(It's about time, my human)," Bast, the winged cat he'd named for the Egyptian goddess of cats, said haughtily. "(You stay up too late and get up too early. It cannot be healthy.)" She slinked out of her small sleeping basket to curl around his legs, purring gently.

Harry smiled down at her. "(No, likely it isn't. But the books! I can't stop reading them.)"

"(Surely you can read during the daylight hours, Harry)," Eris, his black snake, hissed out thoughtfully.

"(No he can't)," Acer, the black raven, cawed out, eyes fixed on Harry's tired face. "(The fat people will punish him.)" Eris hissed angrily.

"(True. But no more reading this late, Harry)," Eris demanded, raising himself up so he could stare at Harry more easily.

Harry laughed and bent to pick up Bast. She curled up in his arms, purring as he scratched lightly under her chin. "(Don't worry, Eris)," he said to the over-protective snake. "(After tonight we'll be at Hogwarts. I won't need to hide my reading there.)"

"(Good)," Eris said, curling back into himself. "(Now go sleep.)"

"(Goodnight, Harry)," Acer called. "(Have a good rest.)"

"(I will. Goodnight, Bast, Eris)," Harry added, setting down Bast in her basket. The kitten looked up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"(Goodnight, my human)," she murmured, already half-asleep. Eris gave a hissing laugh.

"(Good sleep, Harry)," he said and Harry nodded before gently closing the door. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, heading for the bed. Although his animals _were_ over-protective, they were right about needing all the sleep he could get. Tomorrow was Hogwarts! Harry smiled. He couldn't wait.

* * *

**Kings Cross Station, England  
****September 1****st****, 1991; 10:50 AM**

Harry didn't turn to watch as his relatives drove away from the station, too relieved to be free of them to care about saying good-bye. Petunia was the only person in that house that he remotely liked, and she had managed a whispered good-bye to him before they had left. He was lucky that his aunt liked him – he had no idea how he would've convinced Vernon to let him keep his animals with him during the last month at the Dursley's.

He briskly weaved around the crowd of muggles already gathering at the station, trying to find Platform 9 and 10. He had never been to a train station before this – the Dursley's hated bringing him to just to the next town over; they would be horrified if they had to bring him with on a long trip. Usually if they were gone for days at a time, they left him with Mrs. Figg, who was the only adult on Privet Drive who could tolerate him.

"Muggles!" Harry's whipped around at the word. "They always crowd the station! Hurry up children; we have to get to the Platform!"

The speaker was a short, plump woman with frizzing red hair. Harry's eyes widened as he took in the eight other red-heads following behind her – an older man, obviously the father, and _seven_ children, most of which seemed to be older than Harry. Most of them were also boys, although he thought he could see a little girl hurrying after her father.

_'The Red-Headed League,' _**(1)** Harry thought with some amusement as he hurried after the large group. They were most likely magical if they knew words like 'muggle' and they were Harry's best bet for finding the Platform. Sure enough, they soon came upon Platforms 9 and 10. Harry hung behind as the group of red-heads stopped – he didn't really want to meet with people yet.

His eyes widened when the children started to run towards the wall, and they got even bigger as they disappeared behind the wall. Harry knew he shouldn't be surprised, especially with going to Diagon Alley and everything that he'd read over the last month, but he couldn't stop being shocked when he actually saw _magic_.

He snorted as the two red-headed twins disappeared behind the walls with a flourish, followed by a boy with a sour tilt to his mouth. The parents and the little girl turned to leave, and Harry quickly darted past them and flung himself at the wall. Even after seeing how the red-headed family went through so easily, he half expected to make an idiot of himself and crash against the bricks. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he passed through the barrier just as easily, with only a flash of _feeling_ as he passed through the bricks before he was on the other side. Harry looked over his shoulder at the brick wall behind him with a frown - _'what was that feeling?'_ – but soon he shrugged and turned to see the platform. His eyes widened again as he took in the huge, bright red train in front of him, busy students rushing inside to find a seat.

Harry was distracted from gaping when someone slammed into him from behind. He bounced forward with a groan, braided hair swinging over his shoulder from the impact. Harry turned, ready to give the annoyance a piece of his mind, only to stop short when he saw the white-blond hair that could only belong to one person.

"Draco, most people say _hello_ to their friends, not jump on them," he told his friend dryly. Draco smirked and tugged on Harry's hand.

"But I wanted to surprise you!" he said, pulling Harry towards the train. "Plus, you were just standing there, gaping at the train . . . boring!"

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Next time – if there _is_ a next time – be sure to yell out 'I'm jumping on you Harry' before you do that." He gave Draco a stern look. The blond, however, wasn't scared and only waved off Harry's instructions.

"You need a little scaring, Harry," he said as they boarded the train. "You're so serious!"

Harry sighed again. Something told him that no matter what he said Draco wouldn't listen to him anyways. _'Maybe it comes from being an only child?'_ Harry speculated as Draco continued to drag him along, looking for a compartment. They found one at the very end of the train that only had one student in it, one that looked around their own age. He had thick black hair, dark skin, and vivid, midnight blue eyes.

"Blaise!" Draco cried, letting go of Harry to hurry to the boy's side. Harry shrugged and slid into a seat as Draco chattered happily at the boy – Blaise – who was more interested in Harry than hearing all the news from Draco, who'd he'd seen only days before.

"I'm Blaise Zabini," he said, holding out a hand. "Who're you?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said, clasping the boy's hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. "Nice to meet you Blaise. Now Draco has someone else to chatter at."

Blaise laughed. "I feel sorry for you, having to deal with that. I'm used to it by now. Draco and I have been together since we were toddlers - I'm the only one who can put up with his snobbish attitude," he added affectionately.

Draco just sniffed. "I'm never been so insulted in my life," he muttered. "See if I ever decide to grace you two with my presence again."

The two other boys just exchanged a look and laughed.

* * *

It was three hours into their ride to Hogwarts when someone else came into their carriage. Harry, curled up by the window with a book in his hand, looked up when the compartment doors slid open to reveal one of the red-head league that he'd seen at the station. He recognized the boy as the one who'd entered the platform after his flamboyant twin brothers.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" the boy asked, a blush creeping up his ears. "My brothers kicked me out."

"A Weasley?" Draco drawled, drawing the boy's attention to him. Instantly the red-head stiffened. "Do we have to take him?" Harry frowned at Draco's attitude and cut in before the boy could make a retort.

"Ignore Draco – that's what we all do anyways. What's your name?"

"Ron Weasley," the red-head answered, still glaring at Draco. "And my family is better than any dark, Death Eater _Malfoy_ could ever hope to be a part of!" he added with a sneer.

Harry sighed. _'Way to go, stupid,'_ he thought as he watched Draco's mouth tighten.

"Draco!" he snapped, stopping the blond before he could do something foolish. He turned to Ron, a noticeably cool look in his eyes. "If you have a problem with one of us, you're leaving. I don't care what stupid feud you have with Draco, but I want to have a nice, quiet train ride, so either keep your mouth shut or go. And you, blondie, need to learn some manners," he added in to his friend. Draco glared at him.

"I'll stay," Ron muttered sullenly. He took a seat next to Harry. "Who're you, anyways?"

"Harry Potter," Harry answered simply, ready to be done with conversation and start to read his book again. However, Ron's gaping look got his attention and he frowned. "What?"

"Y-you're _Harry Potter_?!" the red-head said in amazement. He either didn't notice or ignored Draco's frantic hand motions for him to stop talking. "Blimey! My dad told me about you! Your parents defeated _18_ Death Eaters, all by themselves before they died! Dad said it was bloody impressive! Your parents are heroes! I didn't know that _their_ son was going to be in _my_ year," he added to himself excitedly. Harry's lips thinned.

"Yeah, so _impressive_," he said cuttingly, ignoring Draco's worried look. "Dying and leaving their son an orphan – what a bloody _accomplishment_!" He threw himself to his feet and stormed out of the compartment, leaving a stunned Ron and worried friends behind. The carriage was silent for a moment before Draco let out a silent sigh and sneered at the red-head.

"Way to go, you moron," he snapped. "Next time we throw out any idiots who try to join us," he added in to Blaise, who gave a startled laugh. Draco sighed and got to his feet. "I'd better go after him. Make sure the moron doesn't leave – if we set him on the masses, we'll probably get blamed for what he says in his stupidity."

With that parting insult Draco left the compartment. Ron turned to Blaise guiltily.

"Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

* * *

Draco found Harry near the bathrooms, leaning against the wall with a frown on his face. The blond sighed and stood next to him, letting his friend know that he was there but not saying anything until Harry wanted to talk. _'Considering I've only had one true friend my entire life,'_ he mused thoughtfully as he waited. _'I'm pretty good at this whole friendship thing.'_

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry's voice broke him from his thoughts. "If Ron knew, you must have too, right?"

Draco sighed. "I didn't want to blurt it out like the moron did. I have more class. Besides, how do you tell a person how his parents died? I wasn't sure how to broach the subject with you."

Harry smiled at him. "So considerate, no matter how snobbish you act."

Draco gave a haughty sniff, trying not to show how glad he was Harry was acting more like his old self. "_You _are _worthy_ of my consideration," he said stiffly. "People like the moron would never get any of it, that's for sure."

Harry smiled at him. "Of course, how _silly_ of me," he simpered. Draco gave him the evil eye when he heard the laughter in his friend's voice.

The two stood there for a few minutes before Harry spoke again, in a hesitant voice. "Draco . . . can you tell me about my parents? How they . . . died?"

Draco sighed. He should've known this would be coming. _'Damn you Weasley.'_ "I don't know that much about how they died because they were a Light couple but . . . . They were supposedly taken surprise by a raid and fought a huge group of Death Eaters. They managed to kill 18 of them before they got killed themselves. It was considered a huge accomplishment by your side because those Death Eaters were Inner and Outer Circle Death Eaters. The highest rankings and your parents alone managed to kill _18_." Draco shook his head. "It was pretty impressive."

Harry gave him a sharp look and Draco winced, closing his mouth. _'Maybe not so much for their orphaned son, you idiot,'_ he berated himself. _'Now you'll become as incompetent as Weasley.'_

"What are Death Eaters?" Harry's voice drew him from his thoughts. He looked up to see the brunet frowning thoughtfully. "You mentioned them, but I really have no idea what they are. An organization? A gang? What?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You mean that you've read all those books and you still haven't come across a mention of them?" Harry shook his head. Draco frowned. "That's almost insulting," he muttered. "Death Eaters," he added, raising his voice, "are the followers of the Dark Lord."

Harry frowned. "Which Dark Lord?"

"The current one," Draco told him.

Harry blinked. "Oh, you mean Voldemort then." He ignored how Draco flinched violently at the name. "I came across his name in one of my books. The author was really particular about calling things by name. So Death Eaters are his lackeys?"

"His devoted followers!" Draco snapped, outraged.

Harry shrugged. "I've found that what some people thought to be 'devoted followers' were in actuality puppets dancing on their strings by a puppet-master. Your father is a Death Eater, isn't he?"

Draco choked, caught off-guard by the sudden comment. "W-what?" _'I thought he didn't know anything about Death Eaters!'_

"You called Voldemort the 'Dark Lord' when the book said most regular people call him 'You-Know-Who'. And you're very passionate about Death Eaters being 'devoted followers'. And when you talked about my parents you said 'your side' – the Light side, since my parents were a Light witch and wizard. Plus, your reaction just cinched it. You should work on that." Harry smirked at him.

Draco blinked several times before smirking slightly. "If you're not in Ravenclaw, Harry, you'd make a good Slytherin. Never thought a Potter would get that kind of compliment," he added in bemusement.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because most of my ancestors were Gryffindors?" He snorted. "I _am_ my own person, you know. I could care less about what house a bunch of dead guys were in – I'll be in whatever house I want to be."

"Well, I'll welcome you if you join me in Slytherin," Draco said with a smirk. Harry smiled.

"So certain, Drakey-poo," he teased. Draco stiffened.

"Don't call me that, _Harrikins_," he hissed. Harry laughed.

"Fine, fine I'll concede. No embarrassing nicknames for you if you don't give me any." He looked up as a group of older students passed them in the corridor. "Want to head back?"

"Yes," Draco said with a sigh. "We probably should get changed anyways. Plus, I better make sure Blaise hasn't murdered Weasley yet. No need for him to go to Azkaban because of that idiot."

* * *

They arrived at Hogwarts later on, pulling up just as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. Ron and Harry, after some awkward silence on Ron's part and angry ignoring on Harry's, managed to make a truce and get along just fine, much to Draco's dismay. Thankfully, in the blond's opinion, they managed to lose Ron in the crowd as they headed off the train.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" Harry heard a huge voice boom and pulled Draco with him towards the lake. He blinked when he saw the towering shape of a man and his first thought was that this guy must have some giant blood in him.

"First years go this way, sir?" he asked politely to the huge man. Beady black eyes peered out from a tanned face half covered with a bushy black beard and then the man smiled, white teeth flashing.

"Yup. Over in th' boats, th' firs' years go. See Hogwarts bette' tha' way."

Harry nodded in thanks, ignoring Draco's sneer of disgust, and pulled his friend over to a free boat. Inside there was only one other person, a girl with a head full of bushy brown hair who was peering at the lake as if it was going to come up and eat her. She started when she felt the boat rock as Draco and Harry entered and turned to greet them with a smile.

"Hello!" she said. "I'm Hermione Granger. Who are you two?"

"I'm Harry Potter, and this is Draco Malfoy," Harry said, gesturing to his blond friend.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "So you're the one whose parents battled 18 Death Eaters?" She didn't notice Harry's tense body or Draco's sigh of despair. "They show up often in the most recent history books."

"Yes, I'm the one," Harry said with a strained smile. Hermione must have finally realized that it was a sore subject and she gasped, a hand flying over her mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry! It's just that it was an interesting battle, and I forgot that it probably isn't the greatest reminder for you . . . ." She gave him a guilty look.

Harry smiled at her, this time more genuinely. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. I have a feeling I'm going to get that a lot the next couple of days."

"Especially if you get into Gryffindor," Draco butted in. "Their common sense isn't connected to their mouths – they'll just pour out whatever they want without thinking it through beforehand. That's why you should aim for Slytherin, or at least Ravenclaw. People won't pester you as much."

Harry smiled, amused at his friend's insistence on getting him in what Draco considered to be the "best houses". "Oh? So the Slytherins won't resent me for being the son of the ones who killed 18 Death Eaters and the Ravenclaws won't find me such an interesting study subject that they poke and prod me for days before relenting?" Draco's mouth opened and closed, trying to find an argument. When he came up short he just crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Harry took pity on him.

"Don't worry Draco – I want to be with you. You're one of my only friends, besides Blaise," he told the blond quietly. Instantly Draco brightened. Harry turned back to Hermione, who was watching their interaction with interest. "How was your train ride?"

"Oh! It was good," Hermione said, beaming. "It was a little over-whelming to go through that barrier – I thought I was going to hit the bricks and make a fool of myself! – but seeing the Hogwarts Express made it all worth it! Of course, Neville lost his toad and we ran into this horrid boy and his older brothers – they were trying to turn a rat _yellow_, can you believe it?! And it wasn't even a _spell_, it was a _poem_ . . . ." Hermione trailed off as the boats began to move across the lake and whirled around so she was looking out across the dark water.

"In Hogwarts, A History it says that first years come across the lake so they can be awed by the school when they first see it," she said, never once turning to look back at the two bemused boys behind her. "I don't want to miss a single moment!"

Harry turned to Draco, who was eyeing Hermione with something between disgust and fear. The blond, seeing Harry's questioning eyes on him, muttered under his breath, "Are all girls this barmy?"

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't know – she's the first I've actually talked to."

Draco sighed. "Such a help you are."

"Ssh!" Hermione told them harshly. "Hogwarts is coming into view!"

Harry leaned forward eagerly, straining to see in the darkness. Just as he was about to say Hermione must be mistaken the group of boats turned a bend and Hogwarts loamed into view above them.

Harry looked up at it awe. It was a huge castle, with twisting torrents and towers that seemed to touch the sky. As he looked at the castle all he could feel was calm comfort, as if he was returning to a place he knew well instead of arriving at one he didn't know at all.

The boats bumped gently against the shore and the giant man began to collect all the first years, herding them up towards the castle doors. Harry, Draco, and Hermione hurried after them. Harry kept sneaking peeks at the castle, smiling. He had no doubt that he would love it here.

The group of first years, led by the giant, made it up to Hogwarts front doors. The giant knocked against the doors three times, making a huge, thumping noise. Immediately they opened.

The first years started to go inside only to be stopped by a stern looking woman in robes with her hair tied back severely from her face. Harry thought that she looked very much like his old Math teacher, who had been a sour old woman so straight-laced it was a wonder she bend down to put on her socks in the morning. He hoped this woman wasn't as severe.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she answered primly. Hagrid nodded to her and turned to go back outside, leaving the first years alone with the woman. She turned sharply on her heel and the first years quickly followed her as she made her way through the huge entrance hall. Harry smiled as he felt a warm, loving presence envelop him, and took in the high ceiling, old fashioned torches, and gleaming marble staircase with awe. Harry could hear the drone of voices to the right, but McGonagall led the first years into an empty chamber.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "I am Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family at Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," she continued. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most house points will earn the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will become a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily in front of the entire school. I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She left the chamber. _(1)_

The first years gathered together in a tight group and there were many whispered questions about the sorting. Harry didn't say anything about the wild speculations of what the sorting would entail, but he personally felt it wouldn't be anything as strenuous as fighting trolls or banishing ghosts. He doubted wizards were so cruel to do that to 11 year old kids, especially since some of them hadn't even had magical training yet. As the minutes dragged on the whispers grew and Harry could see that quite a few of the first years looked scared to death. Ron was one of them.

"My brothers said that they had to fight a troll!" he muttered to Harry.

Harry sighed. "Ron," he said slowly, "from what you've told me I wouldn't believe any stories your brothers have fed you."

Ron grinned sheepishly. "True."

"_My_ father already told me what happens," Draco said, with a sniff. Harry sighed again.

"Draco," he said warningly. "Play nice with the other children."

He heard Ron stifle a laugh and Draco shot him a glare. Harry smirked back at him good-naturedly and was about to tease him further when some of the first years screamed suddenly. Harry turned and raised an eyebrow when he saw ghosts drifting in from the walls.

"Ah, look, the first years have arrived," one of the ghosts said, eyeing them as if they were some kind of fierce animal. "This is supposed to be the year isn't it?" he asked to one of the ghosts nearby him. The other ghost nodded and the first ghost smiled. "Excellent. _She_ will be pleased."

"She?" Harry didn't realize he'd spoken until all the ghosts looked at him. His mind raced through the possibilities. "Are you talking about Hogwarts?"

"Don't be silly, Harry, Hogwarts is just a castle!" Hermione told him bossily. Harry frowned at her.

"We're talking to ghosts and you can't believe that a castle can be alive?" he asked sensibly. He saw the ghosts giving him smiles and turned back to them. "_Is_ it Hogwarts you're talking about?"

"You're a smart boy," the first ghost said admiringly. "You'll be in Ravenclaw for sure, unless you're one of _hers_." Harry gave him an impatient look. "Yes, we are talking about Hogwarts, little one. But we've already said too much – it's time for us to go. Good-bye and good luck with your sorting!"

Harry watched as the ghosts floated back in the wall and sighed. "Well that was interesting."

McGonagall popped her head in as soon as he'd finished speaking. "Follow me, children. Your sorting is about to begin." Harry had a sudden image of her dressed in the typical witches clothing, weaving her long-nailed hands together as she tried to get them in her pot of stew to cook. He snorted at the image. _'I've been reading too much,'_ he thought. _'And the other first years are getting to me.'_

The first years dutifully followed McGonagall out of the small room and into a huge chamber. Harry looked around with interest – the room was covered with floating candles, and there were four long tables taking up most of the space. Each of the tables had a banner above it – a snake at the far left end and then a badger, raven, and lion following it. At the very end of the room there was another table, this one turned so it would face the students, and there were a number of odd looking teachers seated there. Harry only really paid attention to one; the long, white-haired old man dressed in deep purple robes decorated with stars and moons. He looked like the typical image that someone would have if they thought of Gandalf from Tolkien's stories. _'That's Albus Dumbledore,'_ Harry thought with certainty.

His attention was taken from the old wizard when the four tables gave thunderous applause as the first years approached a three-legged stool with an old hat perched upon it. Harry blinked and for an instant the color sight he'd had just after he'd found out he was a wizard appeared and the hat looked like it was burning in gold and red. Only the slightest hint of other colors remained – the slightest dash of a pale yellow, an edging of blue around the red fire, and a pure green circle at the very center of the mass of color. _'The Founder's colors,'_ Harry thought, with the same certainty he'd felt about Dumbledore. _'They made the hat. It's enchanted.'_ Just after this revelation hit him, the colors disappeared and all he could see was an old, raggedy hat once again. However his guess about enchantment was proven right when the brim of the hat opened and words poured out of its makeshift mouth:

_"Oh, you may not think me pretty,  
__But don't judge on what you see,  
__I'll eat myself if you can find  
__A smarter hat than me._

_You keep your bowlers black,  
__Your top hats sleek and tall,  
__For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
__And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head  
__The Sorting Hat can't see,  
__So try me on and I will tell you  
__Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,  
__Where dwell the brave of heart,  
__Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
__Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
__Where they are just and loyal,  
__Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
__And unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
__If you've a ready mind,  
__Where those of wit and learning,  
__Will always find their kind._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,  
__You'll make your real friends,  
__Those cunning folk use any means  
__To achieve their ends._

_And there is one more place to go  
__If she does approve the choice,  
__It's there you will learn all you need to know  
__And you'll really find your voice._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
__And don't get in a flap!  
__You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
__For I'm a Thinking Cap!" (2)_

Silence took over the hall until McGonagall cleared her throat and stepped in front of the stool, a long list in her hand. "I will call your name," she told them clearly, "and you will step up and put the Sorting Hat on your head. Once it decides where you go, you will join your new housemates at your table." She cleared her throat again. "Abbott, Hannah."

A small girl with blonde pigtails shakily walked up the stool and placed the hat over her head. The thing was so big compared to her that it fell well over her eyes and concealed her face. After a moment the Hat yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF," for the hall to hear and the students underneath the badger banner gave a loud cheer.

The sorting continued in a similar matter and Harry drifted as McGonagall called up more people until he heard her say, "Granger, Hermione." Harry instantly snapped to attention and gave Hermione a small smile before she stepped away. She was too nervous to smile back.

The hat was as big on her as it was on all the other children, but Harry noticed that it took a considerably longer time for the Hat to decide where to put her. It had already been five minutes, and some of the first years were whispering among themselves. Harry never took his eyes off Hermione, who was wringing her hands in her lap.

Finally the Hat roared, "APPRENTICE TO MINERVA MCGONAGALL!"

The hall went silent. Harry blinked. _'Apprentice?'_ he thought, looking at the shocked faces of the teachers, most especially McGonagall. _'What is an apprentice?'_

Hermione took off the hat and stood, looking at McGonagall nervously. The older woman gathered her wits and told the girl, "Please sit at the Gryffindor table, Miss Granger. You can talk to me after supper." Hermione nodded and dashed over to the Gryffindor table, who welcomed her with an unenthusiastic cheer. Whispers were spreading across the hall, questions about apprentices among them.

Harry turned to Draco as the next student was called up. "Do you know what an apprentice is, Draco?"

Draco still looked surprised. "I've heard of them. Supposedly there used to be a lot in the Founder's Era, but the last time there was an apprentice was 200 years ago, and it was only one! The book I found only said that apprentices are attached to a certain teacher who will be able to teach them far better than if they attended Hogwarts as a normal student." Draco looked excited and Harry knew his friend was wondering if maybe there would be more than one apprentice this year, and if that one would be _him_.

Harry looked up at McGonagall and wondered why she was the best to teach Hermione. She'd said she was the Transfiguration teacher, hadn't she? Maybe Hermione had a gift or talent for that.

"Longbottom, Neville!" McGonagall said, and Harry watched a chubby boy with a long, sad face and brown hair walk up the Hat. He was shaking much more badly than the students before him had.

The Hat didn't need to wait for this one; instead it instantly shouted out, "APPRENTICE TO POMONA SPROUT!"

The students were shocked once more. Not only one, but _two_ apprentices! Harry felt sorry for Neville; the poor boy looked like he was about to faint on the spot from all the attention. A plump lady with gray hair and an easy smile nodded to him.

"Go sit with the Hufflepuffs, dearest, I'll see you after supper." Neville scuttled towards the badger table, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"Malfoy, Draco," McGonagall said, and Harry got the impression that she frowned as Draco stepped forward, a cold mask covering his face.

He sat down regally on the stood and the hat barely touched his head before it shouted out, "APPRENTICE TO FILIUS FLITWICK!"

The look of delight on Draco's face made Harry smile. No doubt his father would be pleased that his son was one of the first apprentices to be seen for 200 years. It only made him sad that he wouldn't be able to see Draco that much, since he had no doubt he'd be in a House instead of apprenticed. After all, there wasn't anything special about him.

Flitwick, an odd, short man with flyaway white hair, looked as delighted to have Draco as the blond was to have him, and he gestured for the Malfoy to sit with the Ravenclaws. The sorting continued, but there was a greater sense of anticipation for every first year now, an expectation for another apprentice.

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall said, and there was the barest of a smile on her face. Harry stepped forward, all while wondering if she'd known his parents. After all, he'd never talked to the woman before, so why would she be happy to see him?

He sat on the stool and placed the hat over his head, a little disgruntled when it flopped over his eyes, hiding his face from sight.

_"So sorry, dear boy . . . . I did ask Godric to make me smaller, but I was the only hat he had on hand, and I was made to fit him, not you tiny first years . . . ."_

Harry was a bit startled hearing the voice inside his head. _"Yes, not everyone expects a talking hat. Now let's get to sorting you, shall we? You have a wonderful mind – one Rowena would be proud of! – so Ravenclaw would suit you very well, but . . . . I don't think it would be the best place. Perhaps Slytherin, for you've got your own measure of cunning and ambition, but then Slytherin isn't the right place for you either. Let's look deeper, shall we?"_ Harry felt the odd sensation of having invisible hands sneak into his head, as if to ruffle through his brain. _"My, you have a number of Gryffindor characteristics and the patience of a Hufflepuff . . . . You'd fit well into any house, dear boy. But wait!"_ The feeling of the hands went away. _"Oh, that explains very much. You're one of_ hers. _And she wants you to go to – oh my! Well, I suppose they will learn to live together . . . . Good luck, dear boy, you'll need it. And please do come visit me from time to time – a mind such as yours will be a welcome distraction from my yearly boredom. Now you belong as . . . ."_

"APPRENTICE TO SEVERUS SNAPE!" The Hat yelled to the hall and for a second Harry couldn't move from the sheer shock. He was with _Snape_? He hadn't even hoped to be an apprentice, to be with Draco, and the Hat had given him to Snape! _'There's no one I'd rather be with,'_ Harry thought dazedly. _'Snape is extremely clever and tough. He'll work me to my bones, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.'_ A voice in the back of his head commented on how much of a geek he was, but Harry didn't mind it. Instead he looked up to the teacher's table.

Snape looked decidedly shocked, and Harry couldn't tell if it was in a good or a bad way. Once he realized Harry was looking at him, he waved a hand to the Slytherin table. Harry moved quickly and sat down at the very end, ignoring the stares and whispers. He was in a daze for the better portion of the rest of the sorting and didn't pay attention until the very end, when Blaise's name was called.

Blaise took up quite a bit of time and Harry was only marginally surprised when the Hat called out, "APPRENTICE TO POPPY PROMPHREY!" Harry smiled as Blaise let out a long sigh and sent a suffering look to the ceiling, as if to ask 'why, God?' Dumbledore gestured for Blaise to take a seat and the Zabini hurried over to the Slytherin table to give Harry some company. They both ignored Draco's pout at the Ravenclaw table.

"Well, this is an exciting new year for all of us!" Dumbledore said with a kind smile. "Before we begin our banquet I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry's eyes widened as numerous dishes appeared in front of him. With a hesitant look at the other happily eating students he started in on his own food.

"What a crazy start of the year," Blaise said, making his way through mashed potatoes and gravy. "Who would've thought _we'd_ be apprentices, Harry?"

"Do you know what apprentices are, Blaise?" Harry asked. "Draco didn't have that much information."

"Not surprising," Blaise answered. "His father has the best dark arts library around, but apprentices are light stuff and Lord Malfoy doesn't have much on that. Apprentices," Blaise continued and he assumed a teaching posture that Harry found infinitely amusing, "are special students picked by the Sorting Hat to be put under one teacher, or 'Mentor', if you will. Unlike the other students apprentices study harder, longer, and faster. We study in certain areas; the areas our Mentor either has a Mastery in or is talented in. Usually an apprentice is given to a Mentor because they have compatible magic, or that student has a gift in the area the Mentor specializes in. Unlike the rest of the students we don't have a house or any affiliation with one unless _we_ want it, and we graduate two years earlier than they do as well."

"Why was there more of them in the Founder's Era?" Harry questioned. When Blaise raised an eyebrow, he shrugged. "Draco mentioned it."

"When the Founders were raising Hogwarts, there were many witches and wizards, but most of them had no idea how special they were," Blaise explained. "Only those with pureblood lines knew about the wizarding world. In the beginning, only those people were the ones who attended Hogwarts. Most pureblooded families tend to have only one or two children, so there weren't as many students. The apprentice system was easier – a mentor could have up to six apprentices, and they all specialized in what their mentor did. Only after the invasion of muggleborn wizards was the sorting system installed."

"Fascinating," Harry breathed. He'd have to find books on apprentices; it sounded like a very interesting topic, especially since he was one now.

Blaise gave him an amused look. "I have no doubt you would have been in Ravenclaw, Harry."

Harry just smiled.

* * *

Dinner was long, and Harry was relieved when it was done. He didn't think he'd be able to eat another bite, even though he'd eaten less than everyone else at the table. When Blaise had questioned his tiny portions Harry had changed the subject easily. He didn't want anyone to know about the Dursleys, not even his newfound friends.

Dumbledore stood up as the meal ended. "Ahem – just a few words now that we are fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Harry raised an eyebrow as Dumbledore's eyes flashed to the Gryffindor table. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, our caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year; the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." _(3)_

Harry frowned, ignoring the few barks of laughter that echoed throughout the hall. He turned to Blaise, who looked as serious as he did about the whole thing. "Why would he tell us that?" Harry asked quietly. "Anyone in Gryffindor is going to respond to a challenge like that. Probably some of the other houses will too – especially the older years."

"Maybe not," Blaise answered thoughtfully. "The students respect Dumbledore – maybe they'll take his word for it."

Before they could talk further, Dumbledore continued with his speech. "Also, to our newly inducted apprentices – you may meet with your mentors after we have finished with dinner and we will discuss housing and schooling options as a group. Now – let us sing the school song!" Harry made a face. "Everyone pick a tune and off we go!"

Harry didn't open his mouth but he listened with some amusement to the two flamboyant twins he'd noticed at the train station finished last in a slow funeral march. Dumbledore wiped his eyes as they finished.

"Ah, music!" he said. "A magic beyond all others. Now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

The students rose as one and disappeared in groups through the Great Hall doors. Harry and Blaise stood as well but headed towards the staff table. As they approached Dumbledore was sending off Hagrid through the doors. Harry wondered if he was sending for Blaise's mentor, who they hadn't yet seen.

"Ah, yes, the apprentices," Dumbledore said as they stood in front of him. "Blaise Zabini and . . . Harry Potter, correct?" Harry frowned as Dumbledore looked at him with a strange glint in his eyes. _'Why is he looking at me like that?'_ he wondered. "And here is Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger!" Dumbledore cried as the three other apprentices approached the table.

"Mentors, would you come over here, please?" Dumbledore called and Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick hurried over to his side. "Poppy will be here in a moment, Mr. Zabini," the old man said to Blaise. "She is the school nurse and she doesn't often come to these functions as she's preparing for the new year." He turned to his teachers. "Now! This is the most unusual occurrence, and we must decide what is to be done about it."

"Are our apprentices supposed to live with us, Headmaster?" McGonagall asked, sending a worried look Hermione's way.

"Yes, yes, of course! They have to a place to sleep, do they not? Hogwarts will provide extra rooms in your quarters, of course." He turned to the apprentices. "The apprentices do not have to attend classes, but you may, if you wish, look into any classroom. Otherwise your time during the day is yours. After classes end, it is your mentor's decision on what will be learned and when." Dumbledore gave them a smile. "Now, I believe that the children are sleepy, so we should send them off to bed! Any other questions can be dealt with later on. Ah, here comes Poppy!" Harry turned to see a short, thin witch with graying hair rushing across the hall.

He turned to the others. "I'll see you all tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Neville," he added in to the Longbottom, ignoring his look of shock. Then Harry turned to Snape, who was eyeing him with an odd look in his black eyes. "Shall we go, sir?"

Snape smirked. "Yes, let us retire, Potter. I shall see you all tomorrow," he added in to the rest of the teachers and, with a bow of his head, departed from the head table to hurry across the hall, Harry at his side.

Their walk was mostly silent but filled with stolen glances. Harry knew he liked Snape well enough and if there was one teacher he wanted to fill the spot of Mentor it was him. But he wasn't sure what to expect from his new Mentor. Snape, on the other hand, was still in shock at not there _being_ apprentices but that he was _mentoring_ one as well. And a _Potter_ at that. _'Well,'_ he thought, glancing down at the boy from the corner of his eyes, _'at least he's sharp. And those gifts . . . . He'll be very talented once he grows into them.'_

"My rooms are in the dungeons," Snape said, breaking their uneasy silence.

Harry got the image of a bat in a cave and hid a grin. Snape _would_ have rooms in the dungeons, wouldn't he?

Snape led Harry through twisted hallways and down staircases that tended to move when people were mid-way down them until they came into what Harry supposed was the dungeons. They were dark and somewhat dank, and what little windows he could see were small and barred. Snape led Harry down a few more hallways until they stood in front of a portrait of a man with long black hair and icy green eyes. The man in the portrait had two snakes curled around his arms – the right one was white and the left one was black – and there was a large cauldron sitting in front of him. The man turned when he heard Snape and Harry approach.

"Who is this, Severus?" the man asked, eyeing Harry with interest. "Isn't he a little young for you?"

Severus glared. "This is my apprentice, Salazar. His name is Harry Potter."

Salazar's eyes lit up. "There are apprentices again?! How many?" He eyed Harry again and asked, "And did you say _Potter_?"

"There are a total of five apprentices," Snape said with a long-suffering sigh. "And yes, I did say Potter, and yes he is the son of _that_ Potter."

"You're Salazar Slytherin," Harry interrupted quietly. He looked up at Snape. "Does this mean you're Head of Slytherin like Professor McGonagall is Head of Gryffindor?"

Snape sighed again. "Yes, it does. Now are you going to let us in Salazar or are we to sleep out here for the night?" He glared at Salazar for good measure but the painting seemed unimpressed.

"You've got a bright apprentice," he said approvingly. Then, seeing Snape's aggravation, he sighed and swung open. "There you are," he said, voice muffled.

"Finally," Snape said, walking in through the doorway. Harry followed, looking around in wonderment. _This_ wasn't what he'd imagined Snape's rooms to look like.

The walls were lined with books and bookshelves – books were perched on every available space. There was little furniture other than a single couch and chair surrounding a large fireplace, and no decorations. The colors in the room were plain and subdued shades of brown. On the right wall there was a closed door and an entrance to what looked like a small kitchen, and on the left wall there were two closed doors. It didn't give off an air of hominess but Harry could see himself living here with little complication.

"Your room is likely through there," Snape said, waving a hand to the closed door on the right. "That wasn't there when I left."

Harry nodded. "Should I stay in here tomorrow, sir?" he asked quietly. Snape snorted.

"Tomorrow is a Saturday, Mr. Potter," he said. "You were lucky enough to start school on a Friday, which means there will be no classes tomorrow. At least, that is, for the other students. You, on the other hand, will begin your training tomorrow. No apprentice of mine will be slacking off." Snape's eyes glinted as he said this. "Breakfast will be at 7:00 tomorrow, exactly. Either be up then or starve until lunch. I will see you in the morning, Mr. Potter." With that, Snape swept away and entered one of the left doors, which Harry assumed was his bedroom. Harry cautiously went to his door and opened it, only to gasp at what was inside.

Compared to Snape's bland living room, Harry's room was extravagant. The carpet was thick and lush and painted a deep, midnight blue. The walls were a similar color, but they also had subtle swirls and patterns painted on them that were colored a lighter blue, making them stand out against the darker background. In the middle of the room was a huge bed, covered with pillows and blankets all the same shade of midnight blue as the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, and there was two doors – one, Harry assumed was the closet, while the other was probably a bathroom. The ceiling of the room, however, was Harry's favorite – it was designed very much like the Hogwarts Great Hall and showed the purple-black of the night sky, with hundreds and thousands of twinkling stars decorating it.

"Wow," Harry whispered. Didn't Dumbledore say Hogwarts prepared the rooms? Why would Hogwarts give him _this_? _'The ghosts and the Hat mentioned beings one of hers,'_ Harry thought as he moved through his room in a daze. _'Maybe it's because we're apprentices that she favors us.'_

Harry moved towards the bed and started when he found his trunk and three animals on the floor beside it. _'How did that get in here?'_ he thought in amazement. _'No one knew about this until just a while ago . . . .'_

He decided to ponder that later. Carefully he unlatched the cages, setting Bast, Eris, and Acer free. Bast immediately jumped onto the bed, curling up into a ball, and Eris followed her, though more slowly. Acer, however, decided to perch on top of the nearest bookshelf.

"(This is better)," Bast purred. "(This is fitting of my human. The castle has good taste.)"

Harry smiled in amusement. "(This _is_ better)," he said. "(Make yourself comfortable. I want to see what the rest of it looks like.)"

"(Hurry up, Harry)," Eris hissed, curling up beside Bast. "(You need sleep.)"

"(Yes, mother)," Harry said, laughing as Eris hissed at him. He turned towards the two doors he noticed earlier and opened one of them. He blinked as he took in the huge closet. _'This could fit Dudley's_ first _bedroom inside it,'_ he thought in amazement. _'Why would I need so much room?'_ He shut the door, shaking his head, and turned towards the next door.

The room inside was, as he'd suspected, a bathroom. But it was unlike any bathroom he'd ever seen before. The tiles were pure black and the room was as large as the Dursley's living room. In one corner there was huge tub that probably could fit at least five people that had a variety of taps lining the edge. A large sink stood near the door and there was a large shower and toilet next to the tub. _'Wow,'_ Harry thought, shutting the door and turning back to his bedroom. _'I knew that Hogwarts life would be better than the Dursleys, but I had no idea it would be_ this _good.'_

He opened his trunk and changed into pajamas. He could feel sleepiness overcoming him now that the excitement of the feat was over and his new room was properly explored. He slowly climbed under the thick covers of his bed, and sighed happily when he sank into the mattress below him. _'Heaven,'_ he thought as his eyes slid shut.

Bast moved from her previous sleeping space to curl up on Harry's chest while Eris slithered to the pillow nearest Harry and slept there. Acer, who barely slept, stayed above on the bookcase, watching over them all as they slept.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And there's chapter two. I'm pretty proud I managed to get it out so quickly – usually this would take weeks of labor and toil and forcing myself to work before I got it finished. Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Leave a review and tell me what you think!

**(1)** The "Red-Headed League" is a reference to one of Sherlock Holmes' Cases during the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. In the case there was a group of people who only accepted red-haired people to work for them – thus the "Red-Headed League". It always made me think of the Weasley family.

**Note about Names:** In case anyone was wondering, Bast is named after the Egyptian God that was the patron of cats, Eris is named after the Greek goddess of strife, and Acer's name means sharp in Latin.

_(1)_ Taken and slightly edited from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ paperback U.S. version, pg. 114  
_(2)_ Taken and slightly edited from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ paperback U.S. version, pp. 117-118  
_(3)_ Taken from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ paperback U.S. version pp. 126-127


	3. The Hidden Room

**Author's Notes:** Here's chapter three. Thanks for the reviews!

"Talking" / _'Thinking'_ / _Letters_ / (Beastspeech) / **"Spells"**

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Chosen of Hogwarts  
****Chapter Three: Hidden Room**

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it. (Ferris Bueller from Ferris Bueller's Day Off)

No upbringing can completely eradicate a person's essential character. (Brilliance of the Moon)

"We all of us need assistance. Those who sustain others themselves want to be sustained." (Maurice Hulst)

* * *

**Hogwarts Castle, Scotland  
****September 2****nd****, 6:55 A.M.**

Severus woke with a start when he heard the gentle rapping against his bedroom door. Blinking blearily he rose from the bed and stumbled over to his door. When he opened it he was only halfway surprised to find Harry Potter standing there, looking up at him. The only thing that stopped Severus from lashing out at the idiot was the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He dragged it away from Potter and drank the entire thing in three long gulps.

"Good morning, Professor," Potter said, and the little brat had the nerve to sound amused.

"Why are you up so early, Potter?" he asked, sounding a little less grouchy than he intended. Damned coffee.

Potter blinked up at him innocently. "I always woke up at five at the Dursleys, Professor. I've been up for hours."

Snape blamed sleepiness for the minutes it took for him to fully understand the implications of what Potter was saying. When he did, he was surprised by the anger he felt towards the Dursley family. No matter that he'd hated Potter's father – the little brat was _his_ now, and no one abused his charge! Severus blinked at the turn of his thoughts. _'It's like he's one my Slytherin's now,'_ he thought, somewhat bemused at his sudden protectiveness.

"You don't have to wake up early here, Potter," he said flatly. "As long as you make it to breakfast, you may sleep in as long as you like."

Potter looked puzzled by the notion. "But I have to make breakfast too, Professor."

Severus wondered if the Headmaster would punish him if he went back to Surrey to curse the Dursley family. "Did you make breakfast this morning?" he asked with forced calm. Potter nodded, still looking confused. Severus breathed out angrily through his nose. "Potter, we have House Elves to make our meals for us. How else did you think that huge dinner was made last night?"

Potter looked curious. "House Elves? What are they?"

Severus sighed. _'Muggle-raised wizards are a pain,'_ he thought as he stepped around Potter. "I'll explain over breakfast. After that, we have a meeting with the other apprentices and mentors."

Potter instantly brightened. "I'll get to see Draco and Blaise, then! And Hermione as well!" Severus sighed.

"Yes, yes," he said, entering the kitchen. His eyes widened as he took in the array of food on the table. "How did you make all of this?" he asked in surprise.

Potter shrugged. "Everything I needed was in your cupboards." He hesitated and then added, "I think it was Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" Severus asked, genuinely startled. He knew that Hogwarts was thought to be half-way sentient, but no one had ever seen the slightest hint that she was more than a castle. _'But then again,'_ he thought, eyeing Potter thoughtfully, _'the rumors only came into play because the early apprentices said Hogwarts spoke to them.'_ Maybe there was a truth to the matter after all.

"You wanted to know of House Elves, didn't you, boy?" he frowned at the flinch that name produced. "Potter?" he asked, confused when it didn't produce the same reaction. _'What would make him flinch? Boy?'_ he thought. _'Maybe it was a name from his time at the Dursley home?'_ His eyes narrowed.

"I am not like your putrid family, Potter," he snapped suddenly. Harry stared up at him with wide eyes and Severus sneered. "I do not abuse my charges. You will no longer need to make breakfast in the morning – the only chores I will ask of you are to clean up after yourself and do the homework I set for you. Is that understood?!" Harry nodded quickly.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Sorry, sir. What are House Elves?"

"Magical creatures that serve witches and wizards," Severus explained. "They are usually found in a pureblooded home, but Hogwarts has an extensive army of House Elves. They do all the cooking and cleaning, and take care of the school."

Harry nodded. "Shall we eat then, Professor?" he asked, looking at the numerous plates of food. Severus sighed.

"Might as well," he said. "There's no point in letting the food go to waste."

He picked up one of the two plates stacked neatly by the food and put some bacon and eggs on it. Another mug full of coffee is already at the table, courtesy of the House Elves, and Severus slumped in his chair, grabbing the coffee and gulping it down just as fast as he did the first one. He gave a long sigh when he put the cup down – he felt better now. Definitely more awake.

He frowned when he realized that Potter had yet to sit down at the table and looked up to see the brat watching him uncertainly. Severus' frown deepened and then his eyes widened in realization. Likely, he hadn't been allowed to eat with his relatives either.

"Sit, eat something," Severus grumbled, picking up some bacon. "I don't want you fainting in the middle of the day from hunger."

Potter hesitated and then carefully picked up his plate, loading it with food. Severus watched him with part amusement and part disgust – how could such a little child eat so much? But then his godson ate twice as much, and he was nearly as small as Potter was, weight-wise at least. Height-wise, Severus was sure that no one could be smaller than Potter, even the first year girls.

Potter had just sat at the table and picked up his fork to begin eating when a loud meow erupted from the bottom of his chair. Severus looked down in surprise to find a black kitten with tiny wings sitting at Potter's feet, looking up at him impatiently.

"Professor, this is Bast," Potter said, smiling as he picked up the kitten and placed it on the table next to his plate. Severus pursed his lips, but didn't say anything. Much as it pained him, the brat _did_ live here now, and he would have to bend some of his rules to accommodate him. Severus shivered lightly. The horror.

Harry watched with an inward smile as Snape's expression soured when he put Bast on the table. He was surprised when the Professor didn't say anything about it, but shrugged and let it be.

"(You want some of my food, don't you?)" he asked Bast, who'd been eyeing the bacon on his plate hungrily as soon as her feet had hit the tablecloth. She looked at him with her innocent kitten face and Harry snorted. _'As if I'd fall for that!'_ "(Here)," he said, and handed her a piece of bacon. Immediately Bast pounced on it, nipping it with her small kitten teeth. Harry waited until she was mostly finished, eating some of his own breakfast in the process, before he asked, "(Where are Eris and Acer?)"

"(Eris is still asleep, the lazy snake)," Bast answered, finishing off the last of the bacon. She sighed happily and began to wash herself. Harry stifled a laugh when he heard Snape sigh heavily. "(Acer said that he would wait until you were finished and then accompany you wherever you go.)"

Harry smiled. His familiars were all very interesting, in their own way. When he'd grown up with Muggles, the pets he'd seen had always seemed _dull_ in a way to him. But his animals all had a personality of their own. Bast filled up the position as the stereotypical possessive, indifferent cat, but she could be especially sweet and comforting when she wanted to be. Eris was the mother-hen of the group, and Acer was protective and silent, most of the time. Out of all of his animals, his raven talked the least.

"(What are you doing today, my human?)" Bast asked, stretching out on the table. She looked half-asleep.

"(We're meeting with other humans)," Harry explained to her. "(Humans of a similar position to me. Apprentices.)"

"(Apprentices, Harry?)" Eris' tired hiss sounded from Harry's feet, startling Snape so badly that he actually jumped a little. Harry just smiled and bent down to scoop the snake up.

"(Do you want any food, Eris?)" he asked. "(Or are you going to go hunting later?)"

Eris looked at the food on Harry's plate with interest. "(What are the flat cream cakes?)" he asked, tasting the air with his tongue. Harry laughed slightly.

"(There are called pancakes, Eris. You are welcome to try them.)" Harry picked up his fork and began to start on the pancakes himself. "(As to your earlier question – Apprentice is a sort of student at Hogwarts. It means that I do not belong to a house, but that I am taught by one professor.)"

Eris' head bobbed in understanding. "(Interesting)," he hissed, slithering up to Harry's second pancake. Harry watched the snake stare at the food before helping him out. "(I can cut it up for you, if you want)."

Eris hissed, "(Thank you, Harry)."

Harry smiled and looked up to see Snape staring at him curiously. He stared back at the professor for a moment before going back to the pancake with an inward shrug. Maybe Snape wasn't used to his Beastspeech.

"Potter," Snape said, getting his attention. "You have ten minutes to prepare yourself. If you take longer, you will find that I have left without you." With a sniff, Snape rose from the table and stalked out of the kitchen. Harry watched his robes billow dramatically with amusement. _'Wonder if he could teach me that,'_ he thought, gathering Bast and Eris and going back to his room. Acer opened his eyes and looked down from his perch on the bookcase when they entered.

"(You're done?)" he asked quietly.

Harry smiled up at him. "(Yes. You can come with me and I'll let you outside so you can hunt. Supposedly there's an Owlry somewhere, so if you need to get in, that should be the place to do it)."

Harry moved to his closet. When he'd woken, he'd moved all of his clothes onto the hangers inside the closet. Harry grabbed the first things he came into contact with; he didn't really care that much about his looks. As long as they were hanging off of him, or purple and orange he'd be fine.

He pulled a long sleeved black turtleneck over his head, liking the smooth feeling of the fabric against his skin. Harry had grown up knowing only cotton and wool. These clothes – made from silk and velvet and satin – were like something from his dreams. But then, everything since he'd found that letter had felt like that. Harry pulled on dark blue jeans and black sneakers (thankfully, despite its posh reputation, Rosethorn's was well stocked in the style of the common folk as well) and then pulled a dark gray robe that opened over his hips for easy movement over the entire ensemble. Finally, Harry pulled his hair over his shoulder and quickly spun it in a loose braid so it wouldn't get in his way. He tied it off with a piece of leather he'd managed to buy at Rosethorn's.

Bast purred when she saw him. "(They fit my human perfectly)," she said. "(Much better than those filthy rags)." Harry smiled and picked her up, letting her crawl up his arm and settle around his neck. Her warm, furry body was a comforting weight against his shoulders.

"(Yes, it suits him)," Eris agreed, slithering up to curl around Harry's bicep. Acer was silent, but as he fluttered over to an open space on Harry's shoulder, the tip of his wing brushed gently against Harry's cheek in a silent gesture of affection.

Snape was waiting for them when they came out of the room. He sneered when he saw Harry's pets, but didn't make a snide remark. They were silent as they moved out of the dungeons.

"Sir?" Harry asked tentatively as they worked their way across the first floor. "Is there a window I can let Acer out of? He needs to hunt." Snape eyed the raven for a moment, and then nodded. He opened one of the many ground windows and Acer nipped Harry's ear before soaring out, his wings startling black against the bright blue sky.

Harry smiled and turned to Snape, only to stop in astonishment. His vision flashed and suddenly there were colors overlapping Snape's body, flashing brightly in Harry's eyes, making them water with pain. Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

"Potter?" Snape questioned.

Harry tentatively opened one eye. The colors were still there, but they'd dimmed slightly, and he could see them without spots dancing across his eyes. Harry opened the other eye and examined the colors closely; they weren't like the ones he'd seen when he'd first woken up. Those colors had been loose and flowing; these ones moved in a specific pattern.

There was a bright ball of light just below Snape's rib-cage that Harry couldn't make out; whenever he looked directly at it, his eyes would begin to tear up. Surrounding that was a field of color; as Harry looked at it, it slowly changed from a dark blue to a light violet-red. _'It means annoyance,'_ Harry thought, with the same certainty he'd felt at the Sorting Ceremony. Snape's entire body was covered with a dark, rich purple that had thick strands of dark blue running through it. It was something different from the violet-red aura surrounding the ball of light; Harry had the feeling it had something to do with the colors he'd seen after his Transition. The final "thing" he saw, came out of the top of Snape's head. Harry had seen nothing like it before; the only thing he could compare it to was the thick ribbons he'd seen his Aunt wrap Dudley's presents in. It reached high above Snape's head and the color was a rich ivory, but the edges were worn, fraying, and colored a yellow the color of piss.

"Potter!" Snape snapped, drawing Harry out of his observation. "What is it?!"

"Professor . . . ." Harry said shakily, "I'm seeing something."

He couldn't see Snape's expression through the network of colors surrounding him, but the violet-red in the "small color" turned a bright yellow. _'Excitement,'_ Harry thought instantly, then frowned. He didn't know how he recognized the emotions with the colors; it was almost like instinct.

"What are you seeing Potter?" Snape asked urgently.

"Colors," Harry answered quietly. Snape was his mentor now; he had no choice but to trust him. And Snape was smart, and had more knowledge of Transition gifts than Harry did. Perhaps he could help him out. "They're surrounding you," Harry explained. "There's a ball of light right here," he motioned to the position below his ribcage, "and a field of color surrounding it; it changes with your mood. There's another field surrounding your entire body, but it's richer and deeper than the other colors. And there's a . . . ." Harry struggled for a word, "ribbon-like thing above your head. It's white, but the ends are frayed and yellow."

The bright yellow had turned to a deep blue that Harry knew meant thoughtful. "It sounds like you have Aura sight," Snape said. "The colors you've explained – it matches all the descriptions of the four levels of an aura. The core, the emotional, the magical, and the physical."

"Aura sight?" Harry asked. "Is that what I'm seeing? You're . . . aura?"

He'd heard of auras before. Read about them, actually. They were very popular with muggles, but he'd never heard of the kind he was seeing at the moment. They'd mentioned how colors matched the moods, but nothing about the "core" or the "ribbon" coming from Snape's head.

"Yes," Snape said. "It has to be. Tell me what I'm feeling right now," he demanded suddenly. Harry's eyes took in the stark brown that was Snape's emotional aura.

"Determined," he said. Harry's eyes widened when he saw spots of the same, excited yellow he'd seen before dance across the brown, reminding him of a leopard's spots, "and excited."

"Correct," Snape said. "It seems you really do have aura sight. Did you notice anything like this during your time with your . . . relatives?"

Harry shook his head. "I saw no sign of my gifts after the first day, Professor."

Snape's emotional aura took on a sardonic green. "First day, Mr. Potter?"

Harry winced inwardly. He'd forgotten that he'd lied to Snape about the things he'd seen and felt that day. "I saw colors on the first day too," he told the older man awkwardly. "They weren't like this though. They were freer, looser in a way. And they had the same rich color your . . . did you call it magical aura? Your magical aura does. And I was . . . feeling things. It felt like sensations, almost; rain against my skin, or a desert's heat. But they were cut off all the sudden, when they got to be too much."

Snape was thoughtful again. Harry tried to continue to watch his aura, but there was a blinding pain building up behind his eyes. He slid his eyes shut, hoping for reprieve. Instead, he felt a sliding sensation, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, the colors were gone.

"They're gone now," he said, interrupting Snape's thoughts. "I was starting to get a headache and then, suddenly . . . ."

"Your powers will come and go until your body adjusts to them," Snape explained, entering his teacher persona. "It's why magical children don't go crazy from the gifts they receive. Theologists believe that the Transition is because children are more open to magic; they can still receive and adapt to their gifts easily. But they have to adjust; your magic knows this, so when handling the gift becomes too much, it goes dormant until you feel relaxed enough to use it again."

"Oh," Harry said, stunned at the in-depth explanation.

Snape smirked at his expression. "Yes, _oh_," he said, regaining some of his snark. "Now, I believe you have some spiritual gifts as well as earthly," he said briskly. "But we can discuss that on the way to our meeting. Come along, Mr. Potter." Snape started away.

Harry blinked and hurried after him. "Spiritual gifts?" he questioned.

"Transition gifts are traditionally split into two groups; earthly and spiritual," Snape explained. "The earthly aren't as directly connected with magic; like your Beastspeech. They are grounded to the wizard's body by a tattoo that symbolizes the gift. The spiritual gifts, on the other hand, _don't_ have a tattoo because they connect directly with your magic; like your aura sight. Wandless magic, Animagus potential, and Magic sight are other gifts of the spiritual nature." Snape led Harry up a couple of staircases. Harry was surprised when they moved under their feet, but Snape remained impassive. "You most likely have Magic sight as well."

"What?" Harry asked, confused. Then it dawned on him. "Oh! You mean the colors I was seeing after my Transition? That was magic?"

"It sounds like it," Snape said, a little sourly. "We will eventually know whether you do or not. It should show itself soon, if you do. Here we are."

They stopped in front of a portrait of a young woman with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She was sitting at a table, a book in front of her. She looked up when Snape cleared his throat, and her eyes brightened.

"Ah, this must be one of the new Apprentices, hm?" she said, peering down at Harry. He shifted, uncomfortable with her stare. "Alright. You are allowed free entry whenever you wish it. Both of you," she added to Snape. Her portrait swung open to reveal a tall doorway, and Harry and Snape walked inside. Harry's eyes widened when he took in the room they entered.

The ceiling was high and decorative, made from white material Harry thought looked like marble. The room itself was equally impressive, full of bookshelves that nearly reached the ceiling, staked high with books of all kinds. The carpet was thick and luxurious, and there were a few tables scattered in the clear parts of the room, each with thick, comfortable chairs surrounding them and with enough room to seat at least ten people at each one. To one side there was another door and a winding staircase that led to the next level of the room.

"Wow," Harry said. "What is this place?"

"This, Mr. Potter, is the Apprentice's Study," Snape said, with a smirk.

"Apprentice's Study?" Harry asked innocently, eyes still roving around the room.

"It can be compared to a house Common Room," Snape explained. "A place for the Apprentice's to gather and spend time in comfort."

At that moment, the portrait door swung open to reveal Hermione, Draco, and their respective mentors. Draco instantly hurried to Harry's side, Hermione not far behind, both of them looking around at the room in awe.

"Harry!" Draco cried, clinging to his friend. Bast meowed sleepily is disapproval, but Harry just smiled. "Wow, this is amazing!" the blond added, in a lower tone, eyes still stuck to their surroundings. "_Hogwarts, A History_ mentions the Apprentice's Study, but I never thought it would be so elegant!"

"I wouldn't say elegant, Draco," Harry murmured. "More like . . . comfortable."

"And look at all the books!" Hermione exclaimed, her frizzy hair dancing around her head as she bounced with glee. "It must have just as many as Hogwart's library, if not more!" Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she stared at the rows of books. Draco and Harry exchanged a look; Harry's full of amusement, while Draco's were full of a mixture of disdain and bemusement.

"She is something else, isn't she?" Harry asked his friend in a low voice.

Draco sniffed. "I don't know why you like her so much, Harry," he said. "She's a mud-muggleborn." Harry eyed him for a moment.

"Nice save," he said, almost coldly. Draco sighed.

"I don't like them, Harry," he said. "I never have."

"You don't know if _you_ don't like them, Draco; I very much doubt you've ever met a muggleborn personally before Hermione," Harry bit out. Then he sighed. "I can't ask you to change your ways, but can you at least not say 'mudblood'? Especially around me or Hermione?"

Draco nodded. He liked Harry, who was one of his first friends besides Blaise, and he didn't want to fight over this. If he had to put up with Granger as well, then so be it. Hermione, who hadn't heard any of their conversation, turned to them and eyed the cat around Harry's neck in surprise.

"What's her name, Harry?" she asked, tentatively reaching out a hand to pet the cat. Bast purred lightly, stretching out further around Harry's neck.

"Bast," Harry told her. "I have two other familiars as well – a snake named Eris and a raven named Acer."

Hermione was staring at him with wide eyes. "You have familiars, Harry?! Wow! And three of them too!"

Harry frowned. "Why is that so—"

He was cut off by the sound of the portrait door opening, admitting Blaise, Neville, and their respective mentors. He frowned, but decided he'd question Hermione later, and turned to the newest arrivals.

"Ah, so everyone is here already!" Pomona Sprout said with a kind smile on her face. Harry hid a smile of his own when Snape sneered at her.

"Shall we start the meeting?" Poppy Pomphrey, with a raised eyebrow. Harry was strangely reminded of Snape, and he wondered if the two were friends. If anyone could call Snape a "friend", that is, besides Mr. Malfoy.

"Yes, yes, let's get this over with," Snape snapped.

"Sit down, children," McGonagall said stiffly, gesturing to the comfortable looking tables. The five apprentices huddled around one of the tables, staring up at the still standing mentors. The mentors gathered together, whispering for a long ten minutes before dispersing. McGonagall stepped forward, obviously taking the position as the mentor "spokesperson".

"You should all be aware of what position you are in at the moment," McGonagall said formally. "Apprentices have not graced Hogwarts for nearly 200 years. It will be difficult for everyone to get used to having you around; this is why we ask for you to stay out of sight for the time being. Hopefully, the students will calm down after a few weeks. Until that time, you will study; here, together, and by yourselves in your personal rooms as well. You will, of course, be allowed to what you wish during the day hours, but please try to remain out of sight from the other students."

Hermione raised her hand and McGonagall graced her with a nod. "Professor, can we come into the Study without our mentors?" the muggleborn's eyes were bright as she looked at the bookshelves surrounding them. Harry thought he saw McGonagall's mouth twitch upwards for a second.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you can come here anytime you please; even in the early hours of the morning. Alexandria will let you in, now that she knows what you look like."

"Alexandria?" Neville asked curiously. "Who is that?"

"The portrait guarding this room," McGonagall explained. "Alexandria Mason is her name. She was Helga Hufflepuff's apprentice." She eyed the rest of the Apprentices. "Now, are there any other questions?" The small group remained silent, and McGonagall gave a brisk nod. "Alright. We will remain in this room until dinnertime; you are free to look through the books, take a look upstairs, and talk to your mentor about your schedule. After dinner, you can do whatever you wish." She gave another nod and then stepped back, clearly dismissing them.

Hermione was the first to jump off, practically sprinting to the books. Blaise and Draco followed her more sedately, while Neville cautiously started for the stairs. Harry was the last to leave their table, but instead he headed towards Snape. He had a few questions that he wanted answered.

"Professor," he said politely.

"What do you want, Potter?" Snape said, sneering down at him.

"You know what my gifts are, don't you?" Harry asked bluntly. Snape blinked, but otherwise offered no emotion to add to Harry's suspicions.

"And how do you figure that, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You watched my Transition, Professor," Harry said quietly. "I'm assuming you checked what gifts I have. You knew that I had more tattoos when I asked you outside of the Cauldron – how else would you have known?"

Snape eyed him for a moment and then said stiffly, "Yes, I do know what gifts you have received, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed with relief. "Can you tell me what they are? I know a few, but the rest will take quite a while to look up, so . . . ."

Snape smirked. "No," he said, ignoring Harry's indignant look. "I don't think I will tell you. Consider it a test, Mr. Potter, of your information gathering skills. If you get all of your gifts right on the first guess, then I will find a . . . reward for you." The statement fit oddly in Snape's mouth, Harry could tell. It probably wasn't something he was used to telling people, especially kids.

Harry straightened his back. "Fine, professor. I'll find out what I need to know without your help then." He turned on his heel and walked away. With his back turned, he didn't see Snape's faintly surprised and then chargined expression.

He couldn't say he was surprised. After all, when had an adult ever bothered to help him? Everything he'd learned, he'd had to learn on his own. Every once in a while, Harry wouldn't mind having someone telling him something.

Harry sighed and wandered up the stairs. _'I might as well see what else is in here,'_ he thought.

The stairs weren't very long, and they led to a hallway that had only two doors attached to it – one at the very end, and one in the middle of the right side. Harry frowned and opened the first door, his curiosity aroused. He blinked as he took in everything.

The room was made out of _glass_ of all things! Harry blinked repeatedly, wondering if he was hallucinating. He closed his eyes, waited for a moment, and then opened them again, only to see the exact same thing. Nope, it was there. He turned to see Neville excitedly going through the different kinds of plants lined up on the numerous tables. _'Oh,'_ he thought in realization. _'It's a type of greenhouse.'_ Quietly, so as not to disturb Neville, Harry stepped out. He'd come back to take a more thorough look later, but for now he just wanted to explore a little.

The next room he easily recognized as a Potions Lab – the dozens of cauldrons stacked up by the wall was a pointed hint. There were three large cabinets lined up against the opposite wall, but they were locked and Harry probably wouldn't be able to open them. He took a last look around and then walked out, hoping that the last room would be a little more interesting.

But it seemed luck was not with him. The last room was completely blank – it's walls and floor was painted a stark white and it was completely bare of anything. Harry frowned and thought that the room could really use some color . . . .

He blinked as the wall in front of his eyes suddenly had a blotch of bright red splashed against it. He blinked again when the red blotch was joined by an orange, yellow, blue and purple one. Soon the once white walls were rainbow splattered.

"Wow . . . ." Harry murmured. He considered how it could have happened as he moved up to touch one of the blotches. "Maybe it does whatever I think?" he said aloud. "This room could use some furniture," he said firmly. And with one blink there was suddenly furniture littering the floor, making it hard to even move. Harry grinned – this would be _fun_.

Half an hour later he wandered downstairs, having had his fill of wishing for things and getting them. That room was definitely his favorite, besides the downstairs.

"(My human?)" Bast asked sleepily as they traveled down the stairs. She'd been sleeping around his neck the whole time. "(Where are we?)"

"(A study for apprentices)," Harry told her. "(It is a very special room.)" Bast purred in contentment.

"(A special room for a special human)," she agreed, stretching slightly. Harry smiled when her claws got stuck in his cloak.

"(If you say so, Bast)," he said mildly. He passed Snape as he walked to the books and ignored the piercing look his mentor gave him. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the man right now.

He made his way through the books, looking back and forth, seeing if there was anything interesting on the shelves. The books were organized first by category, and then by author, which made browsing and finding much easier. The title Ramadi had suggested popped into his head, and Harry hurriedly moved over to the "Magical Traditions" section. He skimmed the books, and grinned when he found several copies of the book Ramadi had recommended. Carefully he drew out one and then withdrew from the maze of books to one of the comfortable tables nearby.

Carefully, Harry flipped the book open to reveal the Prologue.

_While the_ Rite of Transition _is a fixture in wizarding tradition, there are not many books written about the subject. There are also very few dictionaries of the Transition "tattoos" that appear. This book is written mainly for those ignorant about the significance of the Transition, and for those wishing to know what gifts they have received, but without any proper way to find out._

_The Transition is one of the Three Rites that every witch and wizard goes through during their lifetime. It is the most painless, and, usually, the shortest._ _Most in the wizarding community do not have a full understanding of the Transition; they accept it for what it is, and very few have tried to study it._

_The Transition does not "give" you gifts; it unlocks the inherited potential, or gifts that we receive from Magic at the time of our birth. The inherited gifts can come from family lines or from a blood adoption ritual, so long as it is performed before the child's eleventh birthday. The child also unlocks a barrier of their magic that is set when they are young to keep them from hurting themselves with their power. Occasionally, during their childhood, this barrier weakens, causing "accidental magic" that wizards now use to determine if a person has magical prowess or not. However, "accidental magic" does not determine a person's magical status; a wizard can have no magical accidents during their childhood and still be very powerful. Sometimes, a wizard has no accidental magic because the barrier is very tight and strong against their magic – usually this is due to childhood trauma involving magic, or waning mental health._

_The Transition gifts are separated into two different groups: Spiritual and Earthly. Earthly gifts do not deal directly with magic (such as Healing, Transforming, and most other inherited gifts), with Spiritual gifts are completely connected to magic (such as Animagus potential, Magic Sight, Aura Sight, and a few other, much rarer, gifts). This book contains a dictionary on most (but not all) Transition gifts, and a description of the Spiritual gifts, which have no tattoo to symbolize them._

_Also during the Transition, a child can come into a Creature Inheritance. Most old, pureblooded families have, at one time, mated a creature. Some will not have the proper genes or magic to accept the creature blood, but then some might. The creature blood will remain dormant until the_ Rite of Passage _during the child's sixteenth birthday, in which the blood will become active. However, during the Transition, the child will obtain certain characteristics of a young Creature (i.e. small fangs for Vampyres, beauty for Veela, ect.). _

_The Transition tattoos are considered highly private in wizarding society. Unless you are a very close friend, a lover, or a family member, you are rarely allowed to see (or, indeed, even know) a person's gifts. To look at a person's tattoos without their permission is taboo in wizarding society._

_In the following pages, there are descriptions of various creatures that can be inherited, a full, in-color dictionary of various tattoos, and descriptions of various Spiritual gifts. I hope you find what you're looking for._

Harry stared down at the last line and gave a sigh. _'I hope so too,'_ he thought, turning the pages until he came to the gift dictionary.

He knew what his gifts looked like for memory now – he'd looked at them a lot during the summer, fascinated by the symbols etched into his skin. His eyes lit up as he spotted one of the tattoos; the green, tribal spirals on his hands.

_Natural Healing: Most wizards cannot naturally heal – that is, cannot mend someone without the use of potions and spells. Natural Healers can heal without a spell or even without a wand. They can also tell a person's physical health almost subconsciously, and without the use of a diagnostic spell. Most Healers require skin contact to be able to do this. The tattoo is usually found on the child's arms or hands, and can range in color from green to purple. Most Healers have a blue tattoo, as blue is considered a naturally soothing color._

Harry stared down at the book in awe. He could heal? Out of all of the gifts he'd found so far, he felt that this was the best one. A gift of healing. He preferred that to all the awesome, destructive gifts in the world.

He quickly flipped through the pages, hurriedly searching for more gifts. He came upon two other passages.

_Inked in Cross: The "inked-in" cross is a tattoo meant only for Shadow Magic. While it may be considered by some to be "Dark Magic", Shadow Magic is one of the few arts that is, in fact, Neutral, depending on the user. Shadow Magic can be used for good and for evil, and for everything in between – it cannot be classified as only "evil" magic. The inked cross is usually on the torso or upper thighs, and the depth of the blackness determines the users strength in the magic._

_Sign of Chaos: The sign of chaos is usually a mark used for Avian Magic. This magic requires a gift in Animation Magic to be used to its full potential, but most with the mark have both. It is a combination of Elemental, Animation, and Runic magic. The user makes a mark of a rune on a surface (liquid or solid) and uses this rune to twist a certain element into an object of his choosing. The user then uses Animation magic to make the object able to move. It is with this magic that Golems are made. Usually the Sign of Chaos is around the navel area – one with a high ability in it may have it on their face, however._

Harry leaned back in his seat. Two more gifts down. _'Animation Magic . . . that could be useful,'_ he mused. _'I believe I read something about Shadow Magic . . . .'_ His eyes narrowed in thought. _'I'll have to re-look it up.'_

"Potter!" Snape called, drawing Harry from his contemplations. He looked up to see that the Mentors and Apprentices had gathered at the front door. He blinked and then hurriedly stood, tucking his book under his arm. He would look in it later tonight for the final two symbols that he didn't know of.

* * *

Severus and Harry returned to their rooms when they broke from the other Mentors and Apprentices. Harry remained quiet during the trip down, still consumed by thoughts of his gifts, and Severus watched the boy from the corner of his eye. He was still berating himself for his idiocy in the Study earlier. He knew that Potter was from an at least mildly abusive home, and it would not due to alienate the boy from himself because he acted like Potter's pathetic excuses for guardians. The boy was his Apprentice now, for better or for worse, and Severus didn't want the boy to think Severus would not help him.

It wasn't that – it was more that he wanted Potter to be independent. He didn't want the boy rely on information from others, or to think immediately that it was true. In other words – he wanted the brat to think for himself. Potter would need it for his upcoming confrontation with Albus.

Oh yes, he'd seen the interested and intrigued looks the Headmaster had been sending his Apprentice. He wasn't sure what had sparked Albus' interest, but he was sure that whatever the old coot was planning, it couldn't be good. Severus was friends with the man, but that didn't mean he approved of Albus' manipulative ways. Especially not when it came to his Apprentice or, really, any of the students. Manipulating adults was one thing – coercing children was another.

Severus sighed as they entered his chambers and, before Potter could disappear into his room, motioned for the boy to sit on the couch. Potter sank into it, eyeing Severus warily. Severus frowned, annoyed with himself. He could have made this much easier by telling the boy _why_ he wouldn't help him out.

"Potter," he started quietly, sitting in the chair across from the couch. "Did you find anything about your gifts?"

Potter hesitated and then, slowly, nodded. "No thanks to you," he muttered.

Severus inwardly rolled his eyes at the teenager-like anger. "Yes, I did not tell you all these things that you so easily found yourself. How indecent of me." His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Potter looked up, eyes flashing.

"I didn't mean you had to tell me, _sir_, but it would've been nice to have an adult help me out, for once," he said acidly, and Severus raised an eyebrow. _'Seems the snake has fangs after all,'_ he mused. So far, the boy had been polite and distant – it was quite a change to see him spitting angry at Severus. The Potions Master could admit he liked it – submissive people never interested him, and the boy's backbone made Severus respect Potter more. Or, at least, respect him as much as he could a child.

"I did not want you to rely on other's words, Potter!" he told the boy harshly. "People lie – the sooner you learn this, the better!"

"I already realized it, sir," Potter said, the previous temper dissipating into the cool aloofness Severus saw so many of his Slytherin's use – that, indeed, Severus used himself. "But I would trust _you_ to tell me the truth. You are, after all, my Mentor."

Severus sighed. "I still will not tell you. You have the best book for researching it – yes, I saw it Potter! – and no doubt you will have your gifts figured out by the end of the week."

Potter nodded. "I already found three more," he admitted. "Although, I've yet to look in the Spiritual section, or read about Creature Inheritance."

Severus supposed he could spare this one tidbit, "You do not have Creature Inheritance," he told the boy. He was surprised when Potter merely raised both eyebrows.

"I think I'll see for myself, sir," he murmured, and Severus felt an intolerable spark of pride. Damn Potter.

"There is one last thing we must discuss before you disappear into your room, Mr. Potter," Severus told the boy before he could stand. He swiftly stood and made his way to his desk. "The Headmaster collected the old Apprentice badges last night," he said, picking up the small sewn object. "He sent them to all of the Mentors late last night. You will wear this on all of your school robes, much like a House badge." He handed the badge to Potter, who looked it over closely.

It was slightly different from a House badge in that it didn't have the House Mascot on it – instead, there was a wand and a sword crossed over a set of scales. The background was a light grey that would stand out against the black of Hogwarts robes, and the scales were colored a deep, crimson red. The wand was white, while the sword was black. There was a motto lining the bottom: _Cum tacent, Ad astra per aspera_. Severus knew that it meant "To the stars, through difficulty", but he doubted Potter knew enough Latin to translate it.

"On Monday I will pin it to your robes, and then copy it over to all of your school robes," Severus told him. "Now, off with you. And _don't_ lose that badge."

Potter stood, badge clasped in his hand, and disappeared inside his room. Severus sighed and dropped back onto his couch. He had the feeling his life was about get a hell of a lot more difficult.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I feel like I repeated myself a lot during this chapter (with the explanation about the Transition) but hopefully I didn't bore you guys to tears. Unfortunately, this info needed to get out, so you guys will just have to bear with me for a while. It's sort of short compared to my other chapters, but this seemed like a good place to end it. Next chapter should be more interesting (and longer!)

**Cum tacent, Ad astra per aspera: **To the stars, through difficulty.


	4. Nicholas Flamel and Gringotts

**Darak:** The beginning of chapter one lists all the future pairings, and there are slash ones among them. However, this particular story won't have slash – the romance probably won't start until the fifth or sixth book. So I didn't see a reason to add slash to the summary when there won't be.

**Really Long Author's Note:** I'd just like to add, that if you have a question please address it in a signed review. I really hate adding review to my story; it takes up space and I can never be sure if the person sees it or not. Anon reviews are just fine by me, but if you have a question and no account please just email me or something. Thanks! And now because I've been having some comments about it . . . . This story is AU. It is going to diverge from canon quite drastically on some points because I don't see the point in re-writing the books with a better, quicker, cleverer Harry. I love those stories, but I don't want to write one. I've had a lot of good advice about the plot and I have an idea of where this is going, but wherever it goes won't be in the canon direction. If this isn't your cup of tea, you might not want to try this story out. I just wanted to opt for something different and a little more original than just re-writing the books; JK already did an awesome job of that, why would I want to try it again? And for those of you who like it despite it being way different from canon; thanks.

"Talking" / _'Thinking'_ / _Writing/Letters_

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Chosen of Hogwarts  
****Chapter Four: Nicholas Flamel and Gringotts**

A door that seems to stand open must be a man's size, or it is not the door that Providence means for him. (Henry Ward Beecher)

* * *

**Hogwarts School  
****September 6****th****, 1991**

Harry woke to the sharp feeling of cold seeping into his very bones. It was a sudden awakening; the type that he remembered getting when Dudley pounded incessantly on the stairs above his head, sadistically determined to wake Harry up no matter what. One minute he'd been asleep, and the next he was awake; there was no in between bout of sleepiness, no wishing of falling back into slumber.

Harry shivered under his thick blankets. He was only cold on two points of his body; his feet were absolutely freezing, as were his fingers. Harry groaned. The cold felt bone-deep, almost painful, and Harry knew that he wouldn't be getting any sleep anytime soon. So, with a curse he'd learned from his Uncle, he threw himself out of bed and hurried to his closet before the cold had the time to seep into the rest of his body.

There was a thick woolen cloak sitting in the back of his closet, and Harry managed to scrounge up some gloves and a scarf. He'd been surprised when Snape had insisted he buy them, but now he could understand. And he thought it was cold in England! Teeth chattering, Harry wrapped himself tightly in his new-found garments and then hurried out of his room, having the sudden thought that maybe it was because he was in the dungeons that he was so cold. Maybe if he got back on ground it would be warmer? The more rational (and not-so-sleepy) part of Harry's brain told him that he'd be better off just getting back under the covers with all his warm clothes on, but Harry ignored that voice in his head for a moment. He knew that he must look half mad to anyone that might be crazy enough to be awake; hair undone and crazily curled across his back, bundled up so much he looked like he was twice his weight, and on top of it all his stick-thin face glowing pink with cold, his eyes half-mast and unfocused.

Harry didn't know how he got outside. Maybe it was sleep-induced stupidity or some part of his brain that was still chanting "heat rises" in the back of his head, but he found himself stumbling over the slick with dew hills of the Hogwarts grounds within minutes. Only later would Harry wonder how he had gotten up a floor and outside so fast when he didn't know the school that well yet.

Rubbing his hands together (in spite of his "heat rises" theory, being outside did not in fact make him warmer than he was in the dungeons. In fact, Harry thought that he was probably colder than he'd ever been in his life, let alone the few minutes spent in the dungeons) Harry walked the grounds, hoping now that the exercise might wake and warm him a little. He brought his hands close to his face and breathed on them, feeling his warm breath even through the thick mittens. Harry closed his eyes and tried to think of the Bahamas. It was only when he heard the distinct sound of a twig breaking in the otherwise silent area around him that his eyes snapped open and he froze in place.

Only yards away, Harry could see a figure walking ahead of him. He gathered that whoever it was had not yet seen Harry because of how dark it was outside; the sun hadn't even risen above the treetops of what Harry assumed to be the Forbidden Forest. He squinted and blinked when he realized that the person in front of him was wearing a turban; an oddly familiar turban at that. Where had he seen it before . . . ah yes! Harry remembered a teacher that had been sitting at the Staff Table during his sorting that had been wearing a purple turban. He'd had the absent thought of how odd it was for someone working in a Scottish boarding school to be wearing one and then he had turned to other things. His eyes narrowed.

The teacher was walking with a sense of purpose in his long legs, heading obviously for the Forbidden Forest. _'But why?'_ Harry thought. _'Why get up so early to go to a forest? And in this cold? Surely he must be more unused to it than I am – after all, a person doesn't usually wear foreign clothes unless they're a foreigner, right? Surely he must be freezing right now . . .'_ Harry had the thought that maybe the turban-teacher was looking for something for his classes but instantly dismissed the thought. It couldn't be more than five in the morning, and Harry could think of nothing any teacher would need to catch or do in the forest before five AM. He could, of course, be wrong, but Harry had a hunch, and Harry's hunches were rarely wrong.

He watched as the man disappeared into the trees and gave a long sigh. His incurable curiosity wouldn't let such a puzzle rest. Now he _had_ to know what the man was doing. It was one of Harry's faults that if his curiosity was aroused it wouldn't rest until it had been satisfied. And turban-teacher's strange motions had aroused his curiosity. _'I'll have to look into this,'_ Harry thought as he turned back to the castle, ready to try and go back to sleep.

* * *

The halls of Hogwarts were empty as Harry walked through them, which he had expected since all of the people who would have been his classmates were currently in class. He had followed McGonagall's request to a T – as had all the other apprentices – and hadn't allowed anyone to catch sight of him. He'd started to learn the way of the school better in the past few days, with nothing to do but wander as Snape filled his days with frantic brewing for the Hospital Wing. When he'd asked about his lessons, he'd been snapped at and told three hours later that they would commence as soon as the Hospital Wing was fully stocked, which would only take a day or two more brewing. Harry, frankly, was relieved. Hogwarts was interesting, but he had quickly gotten tired of spending his days wandering. That was why he'd decided to do this somewhat unnecessary excursion today instead of some other time or during the summer.

He turned a corner and smiled when he saw the Headmaster's statue guardian. He had had to ask Snape to tell him where it was – and that, of course, had led to a number of sharp questions about why exactly he needed to speak to the Headmaster – and his Mentor had also given him the current password, although it had been reluctantly. Harry counted himself lucky for getting the man's permission to go at all.

Harry wanted to ask the Headmaster if he could go to Gringotts that evening and figure out his inheritance. Harry was somewhat glad that Snape was so busy; his inheritance had had his curiosity buzzing ever since Ramadi had talked about it the first time they'd met. With his Apprentice Studies starting soon, Harry wasn't sure when he'd have time to go to Gringotts otherwise, unless it was during the summer. Thankfully, Snape had allowed him to ask and, if the Headmaster permitted it, to travel to Gringotts. Because his mentor was so busy, it meant going alone, but that didn't bother Harry that much. He didn't know Diagon Alley that well, but he didn't think he'd get lost easily.

Harry approached the guardian, watching it warily. However, just as he was about to open his mouth and say the password – _Sugarquill_ – the guardian opened of its own accord and a figure stepped out of the blackness beyond it. Harry stepped back automatically, his eyes flying to the stranger's face.

The man looked to be in his fifties, with long black hair that had strands of stone gray working through it. His eyes were a dark color that could have been blue or brown and they stood out in his narrow, tanned face. He had the look of a man who spent much of his time outdoors and working, and there was a sort of weariness about his face that suggested he'd seen many of life's hardships and worked through them. He was dressed modestly in dark robes that fell open to reveal plain Muggle clothing that looked 40 years out of style.

There was something about this man that made Harry feel a measure of respect, though he couldn't find a logical reason why. He could feel the answer to it at the back of his mind, but no matter how hard he tried to reach it, it kept sliding out of his grasp. The man stopped when he saw Harry and Harry was surprised to see his eyes flash a light, icy blue before reverting back to its normal dark state. Was that a gift or a trick of the light?

"Hello youngling," he said gently, bending slightly so he was closer to Harry's level. Harry hadn't noticed until then how tall the man was – surely, he towered over Harry by a foot or two! "Who might you be?"

"Harry Potter, sir," he replied and a thoughtful look came over the man's face. "May I ask your name?"

The man smiled. "Ah, so the little one cannot recognize me right away? That is strangely refreshing . . . . I have had many names during my life, child, but I was born Nicholas Flamel."

Harry's eyes widened. He'd read about the famous alchemist but had never seen a picture or portrait of the man in a book – no wonder he was surprised to not be recognized! This man was possibly more famous for Britain than the Founders or, more recently, Albus Dumbledore!

"Forgive me, Lord Flamel, for not recognizing you immediately," Harry said. Petunia had taught him to have manners when speaking to his elders, even if it was only to make sure that he wouldn't be cheeky to his family. He was glad of her lessons in proper conduct now; even if it was only Muggle conduct, it would be useful until he could find a book on Wizarding Etiquette. _'Who knows if such a thing even exists!'_ he thought with an inner sigh. Perhaps someone had realized that there would be Muggleborn students interested in such a thing and had written something on the subject. Harry doubted it.

Nicholas Flamel laughed. "Why, little one, I am not arrogant enough to assume everyone will know me on my looks alone. Indeed, as I said, it is a refreshing change to be unrecognized for once. Now, I must be on my way. I wish you luck with whatever business you wish to conduct inside," Nicholas tilted his head towards the still-open door behind him.

Harry watched the man walk off thoughtfully. As he turned to go up the stairs, he absently wondered what business Nicholas Flamel would have with the Headmaster when no one could claim to have seen the alchemist in Britain for over a hundred years.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stared at the wall in front of him in thoughtful silence, his mind running over the meeting he'd had with his once-time friend, Nicholas Flamel. It had been a while since he'd seen the other man, and he had been pleased to find he looked the same as he had before; but then, the Sorcerer's Stone had always worked wonderfully. However the subject of their conversation troubled him.

Nicholas wanted to work as the Defense teacher next year or, the older man had said with a glint in his eye, perhaps sooner. Dumbledore had been especially troubled by that one sentence; he knew that Nicholas' wife, Perenelle, had the Seer gift, and that Nicholas' words hadn't just been a jest but a prediction. Something was going to happen to his current Defense teacher.

Albus sighed and rubbed his temple wearily. He would, of course, instate Nicholas should anything happen to Professor Quirrel. He was the best that Albus could possibly get for a Defense professor; he had years of experience and was well versed in both the Dark Arts and Defense against them. But there was something urging him not to let Nicholas teach the children, and Albus respected his instincts enough to realize that they were trying to warn him about _something_. But whatever it was, Albus was sure that he could prevent it if he kept his eyes and ears open. Content, he sat back in his chair and was just about to look over some student files when a knock sounded on his door.

Albus looked up with a frown. He had wards around his door that would tell him if someone was coming or not, and a special instrument that gave individual whistles for the people that he knew and a single whistle for the people he didn't. However he hadn't felt the person come through his wards at all; perhaps because he'd been lost in thought. However, he waved for the door to open with wandless magic and he was startled when he saw Harry Potter standing in the doorway, though he never showed it.

He watched as the Potter child travelled calmly to the middle of his room and sit down in the chair across from Albus. He kept feeling astounded at how much the child looked like his mother; it had shocked him the first time he'd seen Harry. And, of course, there was another reason he was so attentive towards the child.

Harry Potter was a Prophecy child. Albus never forgot that dark night when Sybil had predicted a savior would come and rescue them from Voldemort's dark reign; even at the cost of his own life. He'd searched high and low for the child that she had spoken of - _The one born as the seventh month dies_ – and had found two children that had matched her description: Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.

But he'd never had the chance to find out which boy would save the world. Lily and James Potter had died fighting Death Eaters, and soon after Voldemort disappeared like smoke, leaving only whispers and rumors of him behind. Even Albus had no idea where he'd gone – though not for lack of trying. Every day for the past eleven years he'd tried to find the Dark Lord, and every lead he'd found ended up as a dead end. Albus still had no idea why Voldemort would disappear at the height of his reign, when everything was going so well for him.

But in any case, he needed to keep an eye on both of those boys. He still had no idea which one would turn out to be the "Chosen child" – Voldemort had yet to mark either of them before he disappeared. But Albus was nothing if not patient, and he knew that sometimes prophecies took years to fulfill; it was only a matter of time before it was completed and he would wait for that day with all the patience he had in him.

"What can I do for you, my boy?" Albus asked Harry jovially, his twinkling eyes giving away none of his inner thoughts. The child gave him a long stare before green eyes became thoughtful. Albus wondered what the child had seen and what he'd made of it. He'd learned never to underestimate anyone, no matter how young, after having Tom Riddle as a student. He had no doubt Harry Potter was intelligent; there was no dull gleam in those green eyes that spoke of stupidity. In fact, Albus knew that he would have to look out for all of the Apprentices. Even Neville Longbottom, who was possibly not as quick as his counterparts, was far from stupid.

"I need to go to Diagon Alley, Headmaster," Harry said in a low, musical voice. _'He'll make a good speaker when the time comes,'_ Albus thought absently. "I have some Gringotts business to take care of. I was hoping you would allow me to go today, if possible."

Albus considered the request. On one hand it would be dangerous for Harry to learn about his bloodlines; he was well aware of the intertwined Potter and Gryffindor heritage the child would bear. But on the other hand, if he refused he might lose the trust of a potential Chosen Child and someone who could be a dangerous enemy in the future. Considering his options carefully, Albus concluded that the lesser danger was to allow Harry to travel into London.

"Very well. However you must have a chaperone, my boy. Perhaps Severus would be willing . . . ?"

"No, Professor Snape has potions to brew," Harry answered calmly. "I wouldn't mind any of the professors accompanying me, Headmaster."

Albus quickly ran through his options and decided that Minerva or Rubeus would be a good choice. Perhaps Minerva – she would make sure the boy did nothing out of line. "I don't think Professor McGonagall is doing anything this afternoon," he said aloud. "She finished her last class of the day a half-hour ago, I believe. If she is willing, then she may accompany you." He turned to the portraits lining the wall and chose Phineas Black to run the errand – he was the only Headmaster with another portrait in the school near the Transfigurations teacher's office. "Phineas, would be kind enough to fetch Minerva for me?"

Phineas grumbled, "I'm not your man-servant, Dumbledore," but he went willingly enough. Albus turned to see Harry watching the empty portrait with intense green eyes and wondered what the boy found so fascinating. He was tempted to search through the boy's mind, but if Harry was Severus' student than he was sure to have a gift in Mental Magic's and Albus couldn't risk being discovered and having Harry as an enemy instead of an ally.

"Now, Harry, how are your studies going?" Albus asked jovially.

Dark green eyes surveyed him for a moment before Harry offered him a very careful smile. "Professor Snape is a hard taskmaster."

Severus' influence on the child was certainly prominent; though Albus thought that perhaps some of Harry's cunning was something he'd had to begin with. The boy hadn't revealed anything of his studies, and had instead only given a vague statement that told nothing about his situation. And yet, if he pressed for more information, then Harry would know he was prying instead of just making polite conversation. _'The boy is clever,'_ Albus thought. _'He's clearly Lily's son. He'll make a good politician; but then, most Slytherins do. Politics always take a great deal more cunning than most in other houses have to offer.'_ He would have preferred to have Harry in Gryffindor than as an apprentice, or, at least, to have him apprenticed to Minerva or Filius. But perhaps he'd learn more under Severus' tutelage; certainly the man would be able to teach the boy to survive and triumph. If Harry turned out to be the Chosen Child then learning under Severus would be good preparation. Albus had no idea what he could do to help Neville; Pomona was a very loving teacher, but she wasn't as hard as Severus and wouldn't be able to teach the things he could. Albus couldn't offer help without seeming suspicious or revealing the Prophecy . . . which must never be revealed, at any costs. So he was stuck with his hands tied. He'd have to hope that Neville would make many friends and, should he be the Chosen Child, they would support him. Perhaps Harry could be one of those friends; after all, they were already Apprentices together. It might help draw him from the influence of Draco Malfoy, who was a person Albus couldn't approve of Harry being friends with.

He was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the soft fluttering coo Fawkes made when he was happy and he looked up to see the flaming bird flying over to his desk. Albus had already half-risen, prepared to take Fawkes on his shoulder, when the bird made an abrupt turn and settled instead on Harry Potter's lap. The child look half stunned, half awed and Albus himself was surprised. Fawkes was particular about people he liked; Albus could count on one hand the number of living people who'd had the privilege of having him on their shoulder or in their lap; himself, Severus Snape, and now Harry Potter. When she'd been alive, Lily Potter had also been among those honored few. And even then, he'd never seen Fawkes act so affectionate with any of them, not even he, who was Fawkes acknowledged bonded, had had the phoenix cuddle up to him as if he was a kitten and not a great beast of legend.

"Go ahead and stroke him, my boy," Albus murmured, sinking into his seat. Well, this was a new discovery! He watched as Harry Potter's small, quick hand stroked over Fawkes' head and down his body, causing the phoenix to make a strange sound caught between a purr and a growl. It was an oddly feline sound for a bird, but it was a strange fact that phoenix's were more closely related to the Nundu – one of the few magical cats to exist – than any other species on the Earth. The connection between the two was still a mystery, but Albus had always found that fact enlightening, especially when it came to some of Fawkes' behavior and sounds.

Fawkes, like a cat, was surprisingly cautious of whom he was affectionate with, and they each had a reason of their own for having his love. Severus Snape, a man tortured by the darkness within him and his own past, was loved by Fawkes because the phoenix felt compassion for him. Phoenixes were very intelligent creatures; Fawkes was capable of thinking for himself and he had found Severus Snape a person in need of some genuine affection and had taken it upon himself to give it to him. Lily Potter had been a light onto her own self; intelligent, kind-hearted, and beautiful both inside and out. Never had Albus met a woman as good as her, and he had loved her as a daughter. Fawkes had recognized these traits in her as well, and had showered her with affection which Lily returned ten-fold. Harry Potter, Albus suspected, had the same kind of spirit as his mother, with all the charismatic personality of his father; he would make an intriguing person when he matured.

"Your phoenix is beautiful, Headmaster," Harry murmured, in awe of the fiery bird in his lap. Albus hid his smile behind folded hands; still a child then, even with that serious look in his eyes. That was good to know.

A knock sounded at his door and Albus heard the shrill whistle that told him Minerva was waiting behind it. Harry's eyes darted to the direction of the sound curiously before looking at the door. A look of comprehension entered his eyes and Albus thought once again of the cleverness of this boy.

"Come in Minerva," he said and allowed the witch to open the door himself. He didn't want to reveal _all_ his tricks to the boy sitting across from him, after all.

Minerva entered, her lips folded into a stern grimace and her robes as clean and precise as ever. "You called for me Headmaster?" she asked. Her only acknowledgement to Harry's presence was the quick dart of her eye as she glanced at him and then back to Albus.

"Yes," Albus told her. "Mr. Potter needs to go to Diagon Alley for some Gringotts business and requires a chaperone. If you are not doing anything, do you think you could accompany him, Minerva?"

Minerva glanced at Harry and then nodded once. "I have a free schedule until later tonight, Headmaster," she said. "I would not mind accompanying Mr. Potter on his trip."

"Good, good!" Albus cried, clapping his hands. "Now, you may use the school floo of course . . . and you should be back in time for dinner, so no lingering, Mr. Potter! Minerva, please take good care of the boy."

He led them to the adjacent room that served as the school floo center and then explained to Harry how to use the floo system. The boy grasped it quickly and took a pinch of the dust in the flower pot and threw it on the fireplace.

"You'll want to say Gringotts," Albus advised him, and the boy did so clearly.

Minerva sighed. "What are you up to this time, Albus?" she asked, too used to the twinkle in the old man's eye.

"Nothing, Minerva dear, nothing," Albus said, offering her the flowerpot. Minerva gave him a dry look but said nothing more as she disappeared into the flames. Albus replaced the pot and wandered back to his desk, absently stroking Fawkes as he passed him. This meeting had given him much to think about in regards to Harry Potter. He did know that he would enjoy working with the boy in the future, if their destinies were planned that way.

* * *

Gringotts was just as impressive as the last time he'd seen it, all smooth marble and elegant carvings. Harry had seen very few banks in his lifetime, but he doubted many of them could live up to the grandeur that was Gringotts. He snuck a look at his chaperone as they travelled across the gleaming floor, but found her face expressionless. McGonagall seemed like an uptight woman to him; the only time he'd seen her have anything vaguely similar to a smile on her face was the first time he'd been the Apprentice's Study.

The bank was fairly empty; the last time Harry had been there, there had been a much larger crowd to work through. Today there was only a few official looking wizards standing around, looking bored. The goblins, however, were still hard at work. Harry hesitantly made his way to one of the goblins behind a desk and cleared his throat tentatively. Dark, stony eyes looked down at him over the edge of the desk.

"Who might you be, child?" he asked.

"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said calmly. "I need to speak with Master Ramadi about my accounts. May I talk to him today, or should I come back another time?"

The goblin gave him an odd look. "He's available at the moment, Mister Potter," he said briskly. "Triptrook! Take Mr. Potter to see Master Ramadi!"

A small, lithe goblin made its way over to Harry and McGonagall. Harry hesitated before following it, looking back at McGonagall with weary eyes. "Would you mind waiting here, Professor? I mean no offense, but I'd like my accounts to be private." McGonagall's eyebrow rose, but she nodded and stepped back. Harry followed Triptrook through the halls until they came to a door he vaguely recognized.

"Mister Harry Potter, here to see you Master," Triptrook said as he opened the door and led Harry instead. Ramadi sat in the same place he had last time Harry had seen him and gave a simple nod to Triptrook.

"You're dismissed," he said and Triptrook scurried away just as fast as he'd come. Ramadi steeped his hands under his chin and looked at Harry with indifferent eyes.

"Mister Potter," he said. "This is sooner than I expected, but your swiftness in this matter is pleasing. I assume you wish to go and look in your vaults?" Harry nodded. "Very well. However there are a few matters I must speak with you about before you descend."

Ramadi stood and shuffled around in his desk, searching through this drawer and that. Minutes passed until he found what he'd been looking for; a slender packet of sheets held together with a Muggle paper-clip. Harry blinked when he saw it; ever since he entered the wizarding world, he'd rarely seen anything muggle, and the fact that goblins used them was surprising. Ramadi either ignored or didn't see his incredulous look at the paperclip and flipped through the pages, muttering to himself as he did so. Finally he sat back down in his chair, pages in his hands.

"Mister Potter," he said formally, "you may have noticed that some adult wizards are addressed differently than others. For example, your Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, would be addressed as a Mage or, if you wanted to be specific, White Mage. This is because of his extraordinary magic; which is, in its essence, completely white magic. Other adults may be addressed as Lord or Lady. And many of your pureblooded peers will most likely be referred to as Heir in formal situations." Harry thought of the time he'd spent with Mr. Malfoy and Draco and he remembered several instances when they'd been referred to by those titles. Snape had as well, he remembered. Ramadi saw the look of comprehension in his eyes and nodded to himself. "The reason for this is that the adult is the head of that certain line and the child is the first-born heir to that line; whether the child is male or female. Magic does not care about gender, Mr. Potter. Now, the reason I am bringing this up; you may have noticed that despite being the last of the Potter line, you are not referred to as 'Lord', or even 'Heir'. The reason for this, Mr. Potter, is because you are neither."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "How can I be neither?"

Ramadi sighed. "During the past two wizarding wars, many children have lost their parents, Mr. Potter. However, they were not old enough to become the head of the family themselves. Thus they were in-limbo; not in one place, but unable to progress into the other. This is called 'Heir-in-waiting' – and it is what you are, Mr. Potter. In fact, you are not only Heir-in-waiting for the Potter and Gryffindor families; but also for the Black and Le Fay families as well."

Harry leaned forward in his seat. "I've been meaning to ask you about that, Master Ramadi. I know my mother's last name was Evans, so how did I come into the Black inheritance?"

Ramadi looked a bit startled. "Why, your godfather of course!"

Harry's heart leaped into his throat. "Godfather?" he croaked, unable to believe the word. He'd always thought the last of his family was the Dursleys. If he had a godfather, why hadn't he taken Harry in?

"Yes, Lord Sirius Black," Ramadi said. "He performed a blood ritual when you were a year old that gave you the blood of a Black and thus Le Fay blood as well. However, due to his imprisonment—"

"Imprisonment?!" Harry barked anxiously. "He's in jail?! What for?!"

Ramadi blinked in surprise. "The night your parents died, Lord Black went a bit mad, or so the rumors say," his voice told of his disdain for such rumors. "He went on a killing spree, Mr. Potter. Killed 13 muggles, in front of witnesses. The Ministry gave him a life sentence in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Harry asked weakly, feeling more than a little shocked. He had a godfather, but that godfather was a murderer and in prison!

"A wizarding prison. Now may we continue?" Ramadi looked at Harry courteously.

Harry waved off his shock; he'd have to think about all those details later and look up some information on a certain Sirius Black. "Yes. What were you about to say before we started talking about my godfather?"

Ramadi cleared his throat. "Because of this in-between status you have Mr. Potter, you have certain privileges. You are considered an adult, but within reason. Some things you do will need a guardian's permission, or adult support. You have complete access to your vaults and everything in them and I'm sure there are some laws in the Ministry that you are exempt from; you might want to look those up. I just wanted to inform you of this, as I doubted you knew of your status."

"Thank you, Master Ramadi," Harry said, bowing his head. "The information has been most helpful." The old goblin nodded back gravely. "There is another thing. Because you are an Heir-in-waiting, you are allowed to wear the signet rings of your family now, instead of waiting for the Lord status to pass onto you. Would you like to collect these rings now, or at another time?"

Harry tilted his head in thought. "Now," he decided. "I'm not sure when I'll be able to come back here."

Ramadi nodded. "Very well then. If you will hold on for a moment, Mister Potter, I will begin the process." Ramadi got to his feet and, after opening the door slightly (Harry absently wondered why he bothered, but deigned not to ask) hurried to his cabinet. He opened a drawer and pulled out a strange looking object. It was somewhat large, and round, but the inside was higher than it was wide because it was built up on levels, like tiny little stairs. At the very top of these "stairs" was an object that looked very much like a muggle typewriter. However, even with these oddities, the object was very clearly expensive. The stairs were lined in purple velvet, and the typewriter shaped object, as well as the shell of the device, looked to be made of gold.

"This is an Elucidator **(1)**," he said. "It has been used since ancient times to clearly identify the Lords of the old houses, and tampered with recently to identify Heirs-in-waiting as well." He slid a small pocket-knife (gold, of course) across the table to Harry. He blinked at Ramadi in confusion, which made the goblin sigh and nod to small glass vial attached to the Elucidator that Harry had not noticed. "Please cut your finger and fill that vial with blood." Harry hesitated, his fingers hovering over the small knife. "The blood is used to solidify who you are and provide accurate results. It is absorbed into the Elucidator and there is no way to collect it afterwards." Ramadi sounded slightly amused at his paranoia, or as amused as any goblin can sound. Harry sighed quietly, but picked up the knife all the same.

He flicked the tiny vial open with his finger and slit his finger, squeezing out drops of red liquid into the glass until it was completely full. Ramadi put the lid of it down and gently tinkered with the back of the Elucidator. Harry assumed that there had to be an 'on' switch of some sort back there. The device made a soft chirping sound and Harry blinked when he realized that the blood he'd given was being absorbed into the machine in a timely fashion. He absently wondered how it went inside, because for all purposes the vial and machine didn't have a passageway between them. But he shook that thought aside, too fascinated with what was happening to think about small details such as that.

As the blood got swallowed up, the typewriter-like object on top of the Elucidator began to slowly push out a piece of parchment. It wasn't printed in recognizable English, as far as Harry could tell; in fact, it looked like the few samples of Gobblygook that he'd seen in books. It was printed in a bright red ink and Harry had to push away the disturbing idea that it might be written in his own blood.

However, what was more interesting was that the "stairs" of the Elucidator began to shimmer slightly as the blood disappeared. When it had gone entirely, the machine gave a small hiccup and Harry jumped slightly in shock as several object came zooming by him from the door. _'Glad he opened that,'_ Harry thought, staring in shock at the four ring boxes now sitting neatly on the last two "steps" of the Elucidator. They were all made from black velvet, and had elegant letters written on the outside in various colors. The letters were P, B, F and G, obviously standing for every bloodline he'd inherited.

"These are the signet rings for the Gryffindor, Black, Potter and Le Fay bloodlines," Ramadi told him, sliding the piece of parchment out of the Elucidator and looking at it with interest. "They will be yours until you pass them on, or until the day you die. They each have their own special properties which the head of each bloodline has added to them before he died. They will all know you as their master. Now," he gestured to the boxes, "take them. Put them on."

Harry hesitantly reached for the boxes and took them all off the tiny steps of the Elucidator, lining them up in front of him. Then, slowly, he opened the first box that was labeled with a P.

The ring was, surprisingly, not made out of gold or silver. It was actually made from black wood that Harry thought might be ebony. In the middle of it was a flat disc that held a detailed carving of a griffin. Around the edges of the carving were the words, _Audaces Fortuna Iuvat_.

"The Potter family signet," Ramadi said unnecessarily. "It is made from ebony, I believe. The Potters have never divulged what properties it holds, but I imagine there are a few at least."

Harry nodded, and slid the ring onto his right middle finger. It seemed to warm against his skin for a moment before settling lightly, fitting his finger like it was made for it and it alone. Harry smiled down at it, feeling strangely fond of it, before turning to the next ring box. It was the one labeled B, for Black Harry assumed.

The ring inside was made of silver, Harry could tell that immediately. It was a graceful sort of ring, thinner and more beautiful than the Potter ring was, but unadorned by any jewels. A large dog that Harry thought could be a grim was etched into it, as were the words, _Toujours pur_.

"The Black ring is silver," Ramadi assured him. "It has also proved to be a type of poison identifier; I believe that it has saved several Lords in its time." Harry smiled and slid the ring on his left middle finger. However, unlike the Potter ring, this one cooled to the touch, turning almost icy before it settled neatly onto his finger. Harry eyed it in bemusement for a moment before turning back to the other boxes.

The third box, G, held a ring made of gold. Harry was unsurprised to see a large, flat ruby glinting in the middle of it that held an etching of a magnificently detailed lion on it. Along the edge of the ring were the words, _Non est vivere sed valere vita est_.

"The Gryffindor ring is made of gold, and has a single ruby in it," Ramadi told Harry in a monotone. "It has been known to warm on its master's hand when people who wish him harm are near. It is a singularly useful ring." Harry nodded in agreement.

Harry settled it on his left ring finger, next to the Black ring. The Gryffindor ring heated to nearly impossible degrees before settling, and Harry got the sense of almost _friendliness_ coming from it. He snorted in amusement. Only a Gryffindor ring would give off friendliness.

The final ring was the Le Fay ring. It was also black, but it was black stone instead of black wood. It had no disc or jewel in its center, only a band. The band held no words, but only a unicorn etched in silver that galloped round and round it in a never ending circle. The unicorn's eyes were tiny, bright diamonds.

"Ah, the Le Fay ring," Ramadi said, sounding a bit frustrated. "We have never understood why she designed it so. As you can see, most rings have something of a crest on them, and the family motto. But all she put on was the unicorn. It remains a mystery, as does any properties it has. "

Harry considered the ring for a long moment before he put it on. It settled into place next to his Potter ring, on his right ring finger, and for a moment he felt like there was a heavy presence weighting down his mind, suffocating him. But in the next moment it was gone and the ring had settled tightly against his finger. Harry eyed it suspiciously.

Ramadi stood and started to put the Elucidator away. "Now that that is taken care of," he said as he placed it back on its shelf, "I believe you wish to visit your vaults, correct?"

"Yes, but I have one thing to ask of you, Master Ramadi," Harry said. "Can you look up the specific locations of my properties? I would like to take a look at them." Ramadi lowered his head in a nod. "Thank you."

"It is a pleasure. Griphook!" Ramadi called loudly and only seconds later a knock sounded on the door. Harry recognized the goblin that came in through the door as the one who'd led him to Ramadi's room the first time he'd been in Gringotts. "Mr. Potter, I wish for you to take this knife," he told Harry and handed him the golden knife he'd cut his finger with before. Harry raised an eyebrow, but put it in his pocket all the same. "You will need it when you visit your vaults." He turned to Griphook. "Please escort Mr. Potter to his vaults," Ramadi said politely. "#1202, #9889, #1401, and #9991 are the ones he wishes to see."

Griphook's only surprise at the vaults he was supposed to bring the small wizard to was the slight widening of his eyes. Harry supposed that goblins didn't make much of expressing emotions; the most he'd seen from them so far was Ramadi's rather demonic try at a smile when they'd first met and now, Griphook's small show of surprise. Harry wondered if they were raised to be unemotional or if it was just a trait of their race.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter," Griphook said in a calm tone. Harry nodded to Ramadi as they left and followed Griphook through winding passageways until they came to the small cart Harry had only used twice before, both on his first trip to Gringotts. He eyed it warily; he didn't really like the speeds the cart travelled to, but he wasn't that bothered by it. There certainly was something thrilling about feeling air rush into your face and through your hair as you went at dangerous speeds. Harry's only problem was his fear of crashing in the dark. Nevertheless, he climbed carefully into the small metal box, Griphook on his heels, lamp in hand. Harry leaned forward as the cart started to inch ahead and closed his eyes.

The wind rushing against his face felt wonderful. Harry had always loved being outside; maybe it came partly from the fact that gardening was the only time Vernon and Dudley would leave him alone for fear of making him fall and squash Petunia's precious shrubs and flowers. It had become a time of solace for him. Being cooped up in Hogwarts was almost suffocating. He loved everything about the school - it was fascinating, he had friends, he was _learning_, the school itself – but he hadn't been outside since he entered the doors for the first time. For someone who used to spend everyday out of doors unless it was raining too heavily to see or snowing, it was quite a difference.

The ride lasted for a long time; longer than the last time Harry had come down through the narrow passageways. When they finally came to a stop it was in a darker and danker place than Harry had been in. There were only two torch lights to light the entire hall – in some places it was completely dark.

"Vault #1202," Griphook called out as the cart ground to a complete halt. The little goblin scrambled out of it, lamp in hand. "Follow me, Mr. Potter." Harry followed sedately.

He blinked when they came to a door that was made from some kind of wood that looked suspiciously like oak. Engraved into the middle of the door was a magnificent crest – two lions faced each other under crossed swords, with the motto _Audaces Fortuna Iuvat_, the same motto written on the ring on his right hand, written under it in spiky letters. The lion's eyes sparkled like jewels; Harry looked closer and wasn't surprised to see rubies in them.

"You should use your knife, Mr. Potter," Griphook told him quietly. Harry took the knife out and stared down at it curiously. "You cut your finger and place your blood on the crest," Griphook explained. "It keeps the vault secure."

Harry nodded and hesitantly walked over to the heavy door. He sliced his finger, wincing slightly, and squeezed several dots of blood on the crest that he knew to belong to the Potter family. As soon as the first drop hit the engraving, a creaking sound echoed throughout the hall, and Harry could have sword that the lions' ruby eyes snapped towards him. _'Ridiculous,'_ he thought nervously, but he couldn't help but remember that he _was_ in a magical world now, and anything was possible.

The door began to creak open slowly until there was slit just large enough for Harry to slide through. He looked back at Griphook, but the little goblin shook his head. Harry understood his silent meaning – the goblins were the master of the vaults, but they understood the intense privacy of a pureblood family vault. They wouldn't go in unless it was absolutely needed. Exhaling slowly, Harry eyed the dark crack nervously before stepping forward and sliding through into the Potter vault.

The vault was bright to Harry's widened pupils when he first entered. He blinked rapidly, trying to see past the dots spotting his vision. When his sight cleared again, he was surprised to see lit torches lining the walls of a huge room – a room which could probably fit at the Great Hall in it at least once, if not twice. Harry blinked as he took in what the light was shining off of – gold.

Piles of gold lined the floor – dozens upon dozens of them. There were silver piles too, and bronze ones, but the gold overpowered them in number and in size. The tallest pile probably towered over Harry's head by a good five feet, if not more. He felt like he was in a dream; there was no way so much money could belong to him! Carefully, Harry placed a finger against one of the piles closest to him and felt the smooth coolness of metal underneath his skin. It _was_ real. Harry felt dizzy.

He looked away from the money and saw that there were banners hanging on the rich bronze walls; all of them either crimson red or scarlet orange with the Potter family crest on them. Harry turned his gaze away and edged around the piles of money, trying to see if there was anything in the back of the room. His file had mentioned something about heirlooms – surely they would have to be in the vault!

Harry's eyes lit up when he saw long shelves in the back of the vault, all of them holding objects that he couldn't make out clearly from a distance. As he came closer, he same that they were the heirlooms and artifacts talked about in his statement; there were at least two dozen of them on those shelves alone, and Harry could see more shelves behind the front ones. He came closer, intent on studying the objects more closely before he took his leave of the vault.

The heirlooms were dusty and obviously old, some of them with collected rust on them in places. Harry frowned. Surely his ancestors would have placed spells on them to preserve them? Unless the spells needed to be renewed . . . and no one had been in this vault for at least 11 years; maybe longer, if his father hadn't come in for a while. He examined the heirlooms closely.

On the edge there was a multitude of jewelry ranging from broaches to rings. They all were made from ivory, or something that looked like it, and the gems were all garnets. Harry supposed that they were the Potter family jewelry; though why they were stuffed in the back of the vault and had not been used, he had no idea. He turned to the next things – a knife and deep stone bowl. Curiously, he drew the bowl near him and felt a shock go down his arm. He snatched his hand away, frowning at the object. His eyes widened when he saw the pearly liquid dancing within – this bowl could only be a Pensieve! Harry cautiously reached out a hand and his eyebrow rose when he realized that it didn't shock him again. Maybe it had been making sure he was a Potter? He eyed it for several long moments before pushing it back to its place on the shelf. The next time he came, he would find out what it contained.

Instead, he turned to the remaining objects. The glittering knife looked almost dangerous in the light of the vault – as Harry bent down to look closer he saw that there were garnets in its hilt, and that the knife itself shone silver. There were also intricate designs of leafy vines along the edges, only visible if you looked closer. Next to the knife was a black sheath with the Potter crest stitched into it. Harry put the knife in its resting place and carried it at his side – he had no idea how dangerous the world he was living in now was, but it was better that he be prepared. The last item on the shelf was a silvery looking cloth. Harry frowned slightly and picked it up, running it through his fingers. It flowed like liquid over his skin, and Harry shivered at the cool feeling of it. He blinked as an idea came to him and carefully wrapped the cloth around his arm. Sure enough, his arm disappeared. _'An invisibility cloak!'_ Harry thought in awe. He placed that under his arm as well.

All that was left were the dozen little trinkets and portraits behind the first shelf, as well as several shelves of very interesting looking books. Harry knew that there had to be more in the room besides the gold and the heirlooms, but he had three other vaults to go to today, and had no more time to study them closely, or anything to carry what he collected. He promised himself to come back during the summer and turned to go back to Griphook.

The short elf stood patiently outside of the vault and his eyebrow rose when he saw what Harry carried. Otherwise, he made no movement of surprise.

"Are you ready to go to the next vault, Mr. Potter?" he asked indifferently.

Harry nodded and the pair loaded the cart. The trip seemed shorter this time, but faster as well, and Harry enjoyed it. The door that they stopped in front of was not made of wood, as far as Harry could tell, but a shining black stone. Its metallic sheen shone even in the light of the dim torches. In its center, much like the Potter vault door, it had a crest. It was similar to the Potter crest, except that it was of two dogs (seeing a bigger version of them made Harry more and more convinced that they were grims) facing each other with two stars and a sort of short sword between them. Underneath them were the words, _Toujours pur_. **(2) **

"Vault #1404," Griphook intoned.

"Thank you," Harry said, approaching this vault a little more hesitantly. It looked darker and gloomier than the Potter door, which had been all warmth and light. Harry didn't dislike it – but it made him more wary. "Do I do the same as I did for the Potter door, Griphook?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and extracted his knife from his pocket, absently hoping he hadn't gotten any blood on his clothes. Carefully, he sliced a finger and squeezed a few drops on the crest. Instantly a creaking noise issued, and the door swung open. Harry eyed the opening nervously – it looked like a dark mouth, just waiting to swallow him whole. But he needed to be in there, and Harry wasn't one to let the fear of the dark stop him. Carefully, he stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was how _cold_ this room seemed next to the Potter vault. Everything in it was icy and elegant; the walls were colored a cool silver, and there were paintings lining them of people who had probably been previous Blacks. They were all asleep in their frames. Unlike the Potter vault, the Black vault had no heaps of gold immediately in your face – instead there was a huge stretch of open floor. Harry frowned and walked the length of it to find the back wall of the room, where a tapestry hung. It had the Black crest on it, and the motto had been enlarged and bolded along the edge of it. Beneath the tapestry there were two doors.

Harry opened the first and was unsurprised to find himself looking at heaps of money. _'It's probably the only golden thing in the place,'_ he thought with amusement. He wondered if the Blacks just wanted so much silver because it was considered "elegant" or because it was one of the colors of the House many of them had gone into: Slytherin. _'I guess I'll never know,'_ he thought, closing the money door. He turned to the middle door.

The room was bare once you first looked into it, but as Harry turned his head he saw that there were built-in shelves on the right and left walls that had a number of odd looking artifacts in them. Carefully, he stepped inside. He doubted that the Blacks would be paranoid enough to booby-trap their own vault, but you could never be too careful. Harry moved across the room, examining any interesting looking artifacts closely.

He stopped about midway through the first wall, staring at the oddest looking bag he'd ever seen. It was about only a little larger than a handkerchief, even if it was unmistakably a bag – it had a drawstring just like a knapsack. It was colored dark blue and had little silver stars stitched into it that glowed brightly. Harry wonderingly took it into his hand and opened it. He frowned when he found nothing inside and stuck his fingers it. He was astonished when he didn't hit the bottom of the bag – instead his hand went in, and then the bag's mouth seemed to widen and let in his entire arm! Harry pulled it back with a gasp of surprise.

"An Unlimited Bag?" he said aloud wonderingly, and immediately tucked the bag into his side. Now _that_ was a useful thing to have. Unlimited Bags, as far as Harry knew, were extremely hard to come by. He was surprised that the Blacks even had one.

"Now what else is there . . . .?" he mused aloud, looking through the various shelves. He found several interesting items, but none that he really needed at the moment. The only things that he took from the Black Vault were a dozen very interesting looking old books on a variety of subjects Harry knew would not be well-liked at Hogwarts; Blood Magic, Dark Magic, and the like. Harry, however, couldn't wait to read them; in his opinion, knowledge itself was neutral, and it was what one did with the knowledge that made it good or bad. It seemed ridiculous to ban such studies from the students of Hogwarts, and if he couldn't learn it there, he'd learn it on his own. He was thankful that he had these books to start him out.

Harry tucked the Unlimited Bag – holding 12 books and whatever else its previous owner had put away inside of it – into his cloak and exited the vault, shivering slightly as he did so. He couldn't help but be slightly relieved that he'd left. There was something unnerving about the Black vault, though Harry couldn't say why he had that feeling. He found Griphook standing exactly where he'd left him. They bundled back up into the cart and soon were speeding down the hallways, wind whipping into their eyes.

The route was longer this time, but finally they stopped in front of a humongous door. It was a bright, shining gold color and red rubies lined the edges of it. A huge doorknocker with a Griffin as its head stood a little lower than the middle; above it stood a crest that had a single two-tailed griffin in the middle of its blood-red background, holding a huge, double-handed sword above its head. Harry recognized it as the sword of Gryffindor from the books that he'd seen the handsome weapon in. Underneath the lion read the words: _Non est vivere sed valere vita est_.

"Vault #9889," Griphook intoned and they climbed out of the cart.

Harry edged closer to the magnificent door, strangely intimidated by its huge size and grandeur. Griphook sighed and motioned for the boy to repeat the same actions he'd done for the previous two doors. Harry had to lean up to dribble blood onto the noble crest, but it had the same effect as it had before. The door swung open with not even a creak, light shining through the crack. Harry hurried into the crack.

The Gryffindor Vault was as huge and golden as the door to it was. Rubies flashed everywhere, drawing Harry's eye to every glittering corner. Magnificent tapestries covered the walls, embroidered with vivid detail and eye-catching colors. And, like the Potter vault, gold covered every glittering corner of the room, piled in heaps feet taller than Harry's head. Harry wondered if it was just a Gryffindor thing to be flashy. As much as the Black vault had unnerved him, he admired their cold, cool style rather than this sudden flash of wealth and power. But, nonetheless, there was something stately about the Gryffindor vault.

Harry rifted his way through piles of gold to the end of the room. To his surprise he saw portraits hanging on the walls. Most were missing people, but the few that weren't gone were sleeping. Harry eyed the only two people in portraits – a huge man with a full golden beard and long hair and a woman with long bright red hair and a painfully beautiful face – curiously and warily. He couldn't wake them. He didn't know how to, even if he wanted to. Instead, he turned away from the sleeping portraits to face the rest of the valuables stored at the back of the room.

There was many pieces of jewelry stored there; Harry snorted when he saw that a large amount of them contained rubies and gold. How predictable. He searched through the jewelry quickly to see if there was anything of interest before turning his attention to the small weaponry section. The weapons were ancient and rusting slightly at the edges; there must have been a charm put on them to prevent that from happening, but it had probably faded in the past years. Harry considered the weapons carefully. He'd never really seen himself learning a weapon, but he could see how it would be useful. The other vaults, as far as he could see, hadn't contained any weapons, so maybe most purebloods had considered it too "muggle" to try their hand at them, but Harry didn't want to rely completely on magic; it wasn't wise. In fact, in Diagon Alley he'd purchased a book on martial arts to see if he could try learning it. So he wasn't adverse to trying his hand at weaponry. The main problem would be finding a weapon to suit him. He looked more closely at the small amount of weapons hanging in front of him.

He immediately noticed Gryffindor's sword; it was the showiest piece of weaponry in the entire bunch. It was a beautiful weapon, but Harry instantly saw that it was much too long (not to mention heavy) for him to weild. He turned his attention to the next few weapons, but they were of equal length as the legendary sword and therefore useless to him. However, the next weapon was a bow; an archaic piece, but a useful one. Harry eyed it in consideration. He wasn't sure how much use a bow would be to him, but bowmanship was an art of precision and accuracy, so he didn't see how it would harm him to learn it. Carefully, he reached up and took the bow down to examine it. However, to his disappointment, whoever had put the spells on the weapons hadn't paid much attention to this one, for the wood of the handle had been rotted out from the inside, leaving the entire thing unusable. Harry sighed, putting it back.

Those were the only muggle weapons lining the wall, but there were also several types of old-fashioned wand holsters and what looked like battle robes. Harry tested them out and was pleased to find that they were in much better shape than the bow and fit him much better than the swords had. Carefully, he stowed them away in his Unlimited Bag.

The only other thing he gathered was a few old books lying in the corner of the room that looked fairly interesting. Harry sighed as he strode out of the room, gathering some gold as he left. He was glad to be at the last vault. Even if it was interesting to see what he'd inherited, he felt tired just from spending the small amount of time he had in the vault. Over the summer, he'd try to come to Gringotts and sort out all of his belongings. But for now, he was content just to take what looked interesting and leave everything else.

Griphook was waiting patiently outside when Harry exited. They boarded the cart for the second to last time and took off down the hall. It took only a very short time before they reached the final vault; the one that Harry had been most curious about when he'd read about his inheritance. He had, of course, heard of Morgan Le Fay, but he'd never supposed that she was a real person. It was even more incredulous that he should be related to her in any way.

The hallway they pulled into was very dark, with only a single faraway torch to light it. The high door was cast mostly in shadow, but Harry was able to see the jet-black unicorn lifting its horn to a crescent moon above the words, _Ad Infinitum_. The door was pure black, except for the seal, whose background was shining silver.

While the Black door had caused uneasiness, Harry felt pulled to this vault, almost as if it was a candle and he was a moth. It was a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one. Before he could stop himself, he was in front of the door, pulling out the small knife that now felt familiar in his hand and cutting his finger so blood could stain the black unicorn's head. Instantly, the door slid open, completely silent. Harry didn't look back as he entered into the dark abyss.

Unlike the rest of the vaults, this one had actual lit torches lining the walls. It was structured similarly to the Black vault; instead of having everything out in the open and in a jumble like the Gryffindor and Potter vaults, any treasure in the room was separated between the four doors that the room had. On the opposite end of the vault door there was a huge portrait that held a sleeping woman. Curious, Harry stepped closer.

The portrait only showed the woman's upper body. Her hair was long and thick, colored the unblemished black of a raven's feathers and her face was small and delicate. Although her eyes were closed Harry could see that they were almost unnaturally large in her face. Over her heavy, dark eyebrows was a faded blue crescent moon. While she wasn't a classic beauty, there was no denying she had distinguished looks. Perhaps if she smiled, she could be called beautiful. **(3)**

Harry had no doubt that this woman was no other than Morgaine Le Fay, the legendary founder of the Le Fay lineage. He stared up at her portrait in awe; if only she had been awake! What questions he would have had for her. As it was, he couldn't wait for her to wait for a slumber that could be never-ending. He tore his eyes away from her painting and opened the door to the immediate right of her portrait.

This was very obviously the "gold room"; although it was somewhat small in size, it was so filled with money that Harry could only take a few steps inside before he couldn't move anymore without stepping on coins of some sort. Harry smiled slightly and turned to leave; this wasn't what he wanted to look through.

The door next to the gold room was the one he entered next, and he was surprised to see a room full of, all things, books. The walls were bookshelves, all with hundreds of books sitting on them, stacks of books lined most of the floor, and smaller bookshelves filled with volumes could be found in every corner. Harry had practically his own library of information waiting to be taken in. He stared in awe at the amount of books surrounding him; he could hardly even think of looking through them all, let alone reading every one! But the academic in Harry hungered for the information in those books – imagine what secrets books from the Le Fay vault could hold! But with the amount of books, it would take more time than he had to sort through them all and get the ones he wanted. Huffing irritably under his breath, Harry quickly set to work, scanning the bookshelves for any interesting looking titles to bring back with him. He found more books than he'd planned on taking – at least a dozen, if not more – but he put them all in his Unlimited Bag nonetheless. He had an entire year to read them, and he didn't want to get bored.

With one longing last glance at the books left behind, Harry exited the room and moved to the one across from it. He peered inside and blinked when he saw the shelves of glittering artifacts lining the walls. There was plenty of jewelry, several small chests and even a trunk! Blank portraits were stacked up against the wall. Harry scanned the items and didn't find anything interesting until his eye landed on a small hand mirror in the corner of the shelves. The mirror was old and dusty, but there was something about it that called to Harry. He moved closer, frowning with curiosity. Harry looked down at the mirror, taking in the engravings on the edges and the dusty but uncracked surface. With a shrug, he deposited it in his bag; after all, they were a mystery and Harry had the curiosity of a cat.

He left that room and entered the final one. He was only half-surprised to see that this room had weapons lining its walls. He wondered if it was only the old lines that kept weaponry; both the Black and the Potter vaults had nothing of the sort. But such thoughts were lost as he examined the weapons, taking in their beautiful and unique designs with awe in his eyes. Clearly, the Le Fay family didn't slack when it came to its weapons.

Harry found that he kept being drawn to the bows in the back; it was peculiar feeling, much like he'd had not so long ago in the pet shop of Diagon Alley, but different all the same. He meandered around the lines of weapons until he came to stop in front of what seemed like the most beautiful bow in the world.

Its wood was a shining black; of what type, Harry had no idea. Carved into the wood were elaborate designs painted in red; Harry could make some patterns out of them, such as a sun here, and what could have been a serpentine-looking dragon, but otherwise the patterns were meaningless. Beside the bow was a quiver made of soft black leather that held a dozen or more sleek arrows – all also black, with red feathers.

Harry took the bow with reverent fingers; it was too big for him by half, but still in good condition, considering that it could have been down in the vault for quite some period of time. He inspected the arrows and found that the tips were made of what seemed like good steel; he had no experience in the matter, so he had no way of knowing for sure, but he was doubtful that the Le Fay family would have anything less than the best for their weapons.

Harry had no idea how to handle a bow. He held it awkwardly in his left hand, shifting it around until it fit a bit more comfortably. He drew the string carefully, but only managed to make it halfway; the string was taunt and hard for someone with so little muscle to handle. Harry jumped when he felt the string snap slightly against his wrist, and thanked Merlin that he was wearing robe sleeves that took the bite out of the sting. Harry stared down at the bow, wondering if it was even worth it to take it. It was much too big for him and he could barely manage it in his current state. But, nonetheless, he placed it in his Bag, if only because the thought of leaving it behind made something inside him ache.

He went to the swords next, looking them over and smiling as he tried out the heavy broadswords that took two hands and much more muscle than Harry had to lift. He found that he was drawn to the slimmer, smaller swords; there were several of a different make; Harry thought that they might be Japanese, but such assumptions were only made from the few ninja movies he'd spied on as a kid. He found that he liked one of these the best; a nondescript sword made of what looked to be steel, with a plain black sheath and hilt. Harry put that in his bag as well and continued to wander around the room, delighted as any boy might be to get to choose weapons that were not broken from rust or age.

He found that he liked the knives best out of the other weapons he found in the room, and decided to pick a set. Surely they would be easier to manage than a sword or a bow at his age now, and there was something about the practice of knife-work that Harry felt he would like. He picked out a set of twenty that were all a dark green at the hilt; they were the only set without some sort of gemstone set in the hilt.

With one last look around, Harry departed from the room. His mission to explore the vault now complete, he was about to turn to leave when he noticed, with a start, that he was being watched.

The woman in the portrait had woken up.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Wow. Just wow. I cannot believe how long it took me to write this chapter, or how _long_ this chapter _is_. I suppose it's my own fault for wanting to do all the vault stuff right away; I had to plan it all out and that took a while, and then I had a few places where writer's block stumped me for a bit, and the weeks just kept adding up. I'm really sorry for the delay. I feel extremely bad about it, especially when I realize just how long it's been since I've updated. I'll try to do better next time; which should run more smoothly because I don't have to think up vaults and crests and mottos. Please leave a review (though I definitely don't deserve any . . . .) and let me know what you think.

**(1)** Elucidator (English, verb): To make clear or plain, especially by explanation; clarify.  
**(2)** This is the actual Black crest as drawn by J.K. Rowling. You can see it at HPL, if you want to know what it looks like.  
**(3)** Morgaine's looks are drawn heavily from the novel _The Mists of Avalon_, as some of you may well know from reading it yourself (if you haven't read it; do. It is an amazing work of literature). The crescent moon is a mark that shows she was a priestess of the Mother Goddess.

Crest Mottos

Potter: _Audaces Fortuna Iuvat_: Fortune Favors the Bold (Latin)  
Black: _Toujours pur:_ Always Pure (French)  
Gryffindor: _Non est vivere sed valere vita est_: Life is not being alive, but being well (there's more to life than being alive) (Latin)  
Le Fay: _Ad Infinitum: _To Infinity (Latin)


End file.
